Incoherently Illiterate

Neither rhyme nor reason will lend me a hand,
My usual prose behaving like a handful of sand,
In this turmoil of frustration,
Sorrow,
Anger,
Joy,
And fear
The more I think life is trying to harvest my tears..

In this silence I am agonized,
Yet in my speech I am stunted,
So what refuge is there left
For this hunter that has become hunted?

My instincts are screaming
Find a cave now you fool!
Then hide and stay hidden
That's always been your best tool..

Yet here I still stand,
Neither a flicker in my eyes,
Nor a word on my lips
Left in this corpse of my despicable disguise..