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May 2013
In my absence
My mind has been doing back-flips,
back-spins and hand-springs.

They really should be called head-springs.'

Off a spring board I began vaulting.
Trying to spin, tumble, turn des pairs
of thoughts stuck in the landing area

Threw a little french in there for ya.

Grasping at hysteria asymmetrically with sanity
must be stronger than anxiety. Like a glass coat, it blankets me
however you can see to the core, translucent rings of a tree.

Walking the balance beam
between life and suicide sporadically.
Being pushed on both sides by a jet stream

Surviving is a pipe dream because we are all dying.

Once again I am on the floor. However,
I am implored to look forward by poetic neighbors.
All I gotta do is knock on their door and they'll gladly give me a cup of esprit de corps.

*More french, Au revoir
Slowly working through this swamp I've been hiding from myself for years. I realized how emotionally disconnected I have been and my uncovering of all the niches of my past put me into a shock. Words can not describe what I am going through, but they are the only tool I have, so I'll make them work. © May 17th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.
Timothy Brown
Written by
Timothy Brown  27/M/America
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