Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Backlit Desire Aug 2012
Hours of wait
simply left by the gate.
Nerves on edge.
Mind racing
racing
racing !
Twitching and fidgety.
Squirming.
Wet and wrung,
these sweaty palms
will never forget.
Ages like eons you have been told,
that I was the one who left you for fools gold.
Now the time awaits for answers to be met.
Will you believe?
Oh the these **** shakes and shivers.
Twitching iching...
**** These
Sweaty Palms
Tony Luxton Feb 2018
Single storey, long brick building,
curtained stage and wooden floors,
overture beginners, teachers,
scouts and guides in Sunday chorus.

Sounds of pennies dropping,
scraping chairs, coughing, iching, scratching,
and fidgets tiny bladders filling.

Holy high days came in cycles,
Whit Walks, banners, carnivals.
Many living on in stories,
since their final church parade.
Sunday School
I have this affliction
you can call an addiction
no matter how innocent
no matter the situation
my limbs do this burning
my feet get to iching
the dreamer's disease
enemy of submission

I fear I'm twined
twisted, unhinged
rhyme after rhyme
binge after binge
potent this chemical
direct the syringe
injecting me drunk
electrifying the fringe

An addict of dreaming
fantasy's fan
reality bites
like a wasp in the hand
real as can be
this enamoring sea
washing me dry
coaxing a scream

I admit that I'm hooked
perhaps it's devotion
diving in deep
vast like the ocean
not a deathly affliction
just a fleeting emotion
I'm an addict of dreaming
reality stays broken

— The End —