her heart was hand hewn,
a butchered block of aged wood –
heavy,
weathered,
cracked and dry
it no longer beat;
it only pained her,
its weight a foggy barrier,
keeping distance or closing in –
she wasn’t sure which
all she knew was that it hurt,
its splinters scraping against its walls,
gnashing at the soft tissue,
tearing through
and flooding her chest with dust
-image via Pixabay
I dare to close my eyes,
to be still and content,
despite the blackness,
threatening ascent,
almost instantaneously,
feeling rapid descent,
but it’s not black,
where was I sent?
it’s all so bold,
and lines are bent,
in technicolor,
with vivid accent,
non-linear and sharp,
the not-shapes torment,
rippling hues spinning,
a vortex of dissent,
hands and fingers paw at me,
a sea of malcontent,
this sensory kaleidoscope,
I’m overwhelmed, spent,
rapid breath in all blues,
but it’s stuck like cement,
I can’t feel my skin,
is this going to relent?
am I still sleeping?
where have I went?
if this is dreaming,
I don’t give my consent,
bring back the blackness,
this is not what I meant
-image via Pinterest, The end of yesterday by Delira
I dare close my eyes,
to be still and content,
despite the blackness,
threatening ascent,
almost instantaneously,
feeling rapid descent,
but it’s not black,
where was I sent?
it’s all so bold,
and lines are bent,
in technicolor,
with vivid accent,
non-linear and sharp,
the not-shapes torment,
rippling hues spinning,
a vortex of dissent,
hands and fingers paw at me,
a sea of malcontent,
a sensory kaleidoscope,
I’m overwhelmed, spent,
rapid breath in all blues,
but it’s stuck like cement,
I can’t feel my skin,
is this going to relent?
am I still sleeping?
where have I went?
if this is dreaming,
I don’t give my consent,
bring back the blackness,
this is not what I meant
-image via Pixabay
skin of sand
blown about
reaching hand
full of doubt
thinking errant
stay with me
peeling, transparent
want to flee
need your arms
invisibility cloak
safe from harm
the mirrors and smoke
your voice, I crave
my metronome
your pulse my nave
my haven, my home
thoughts flitter
wicked twitching
momentum gaining
time’s bewitching
hands bending
ticks taunting
face’s glaring
tocks a’haunting
quickly slipping
consuming blackness
self-made funnel
symphonic madness
rabbit hole
voice’s rotten
where’d I go?
self forgotten
~photo credit nakedhonest.com
Clicking, turning
‘Round and rounding
Center burning
Mindless, drowning
Wreckage earning
Endless pounding
Thoughts a’churning
Screeching sounding
Right side returning
Yet upside downing
‘Round and ’round
And ’round and rounding
*image credit 123rf.com free images via Google
leaden feet roam the foggy gray,
stuck in the space between this world
and a thousand others,
in the shadowland,
where time ticks unevenly to an un-rhythm,
a continuum,
all angles and edges in a world of flat lines,
and light traveling in just that,
stifled souls unable to allow it to pass through,
this a lonely land littered with silhouettes,
a crowd of could-be’s,
un-being
-image found on Pinterest, source unknown
