~
Ragged mist of stalled horizon,
from dry dock
to disadvantage point

second hand shops
of sackcloth and ash,
they contain multitudes

treading the outside edge
of perception,
rehearsing disaster
in fistfuls of earth,
and the immaterial:
the stuff of pure shadow

a bevy of dead buildings
resemble a fallen actress
in the throes of dance,
with emaciated figurines leaning
forward in the temple,
listening for clues
too far to whisper

work will never resume
on the tower,
and it will remain painfully scanty,
a place to bury strangers
or raise up cholera

the third world summer
sun on sacred walls,
red before orange,
let the rays burn away our sins,
we contain multitudes

but one step inside doesn't mean
we understand anything
~

i never second guess its omnipresence
but i do underestimate its lack of reverence
rendered second fiddle to my own body
my own mind, bubbling up inside
i should never second guess its power
thought i was built strong, that i would tower
until it broke me down like salt in water
like a fish out of water
gasping for my life, except theres no threat to see
silence is deafening, voices whispering
ribbons undoing, time i keep losing
i should never second guess its control
simply riding the monstrous waves as they come
i finally learned to swim, the first couple years nearly did me in
hide in shadows and caves, played the mind games
and i lost
tried to scale the waves
and i lost
i keep losing
anxiety keeps brewing
a fresh *** daily like your favourite brewery
pretty till broken like jewelry
imprison by my own cells
lacking in unity