I feel it slipping—

Like sand through fingers

On the beach in my soul

Where the tide rages

And birds cannot find

Any food to eat

Because all that was planted

Is rotten

And all that was found

Was forgotten.

I feel it falling—

Like a man from the roof

Of his damnable house

When he feels he cannot

Take it anymore;

Where the birds sing their

Strangled songs

And sinners try to

Right their wrongs.

I feel it sliding—

Like an oil slick

On a gravel road

In the forests of my mind

Where children hide

Their broken smiles,

And jacks and jills

Roll down the hills

And secrets slide

From lips so wide

To ears so near they hear it clear.

I feel it breaking—

Like the ***** windows

In that damnable house

With finger prints

And drawings traced

By finger tips

Upon the panes of glass

Which shutter in the

Windy night

And whisper that it’s

All alright.

I feel it fading—

Like a fire waning

In the night

Beneath the stars

That burn so bright

And in the humid

Summer air

I know that it’s too late

To care;

But I feel it breaking

Snapping, shaking…

My sanity slipping from my grasp

Is getting way too hard to clasp.

It’s gone.