Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
the joke is me -
my hair,
my face,
my eyes,
my 'skills'
and everything I ever attempted to do
anxiety is not panic;
it is insidious -
cool slimy thoughts
slither
snakes winding through the
dusk of my senses.

worse,
it whispers doubt
to chill the faithful muscle
pounding relentless against
my breast
up late;
screen light on her face
as she
d e l v e s
to depths untold
old skin must be shed;
peeling
painful
the storm of darkness
after which there is blessed light
A timely reminder to myself.
anathema
to my
darkness -
you didn't
consider
that
when i
cried
out
those
words,
they were for
you
we draw lines in the ever-shifting sands
     'No! That is me, not you!'
     'You idiot, that's ME, this is you!'

and yet the division is far too unclear
for any fool swigging his beer.

as the ever-shifting lines in the sand
tie us all to our meager plots of land,

i - for all that one-letter word is worth -
slip over the boundaries and cross't the hills
make this a test of mind,
not wills,

for in this shattered world, i find,
there is no boundary between me and thine!

only when we all understand
can we end the rivalry and war amongst man -
     so gaze into another's eyes,
     see the common soul you've both disguised
Next page