Sleepless

There it is. When the lights go out. There is the old grief, compounded. C is right. I have put up every wall I can, and I am running as hard as I can to ignore it, make it go away.
This house is so empty, like its heart has gone. The purpose to my life. My orbit has been knocked away off course, and I am drifting. Drifting in the sickness, drifting in the dark, drifting without a course. The night is my day, and the dawn my twilight. Only when true exhaustion hits do I answer the siren call of my dreams.
My dreams, once looked forward to, offer no real relief from the night, just more twisted visions of the past, mixed with the never ending search to find what I have lost.
I wake, more exhausted than when I fell asleep, in the afternoon, and begin again. Wall, ignore, run, hide, and ignore the emptiness. Fly from the silence. Push real love away because it just hurts more. Squeeze out life, for the sham.
All those voices drilled into me from childhood, crowd out the spark of good, and calm I try to sow. My days are nothing but exhausted running, and my nights filled with distraction till the exhaustion finally takes me.
Grief will eat a person from the inside out. Left to fester on its own, it weakens the soul, and kills from the inside out. Sickness from the outside in.