Month: September 2022

What is it about those faces
moments, people, places
that stick in our subconscious
for longer than they’re welcome?
They rest in secret places
ghosts of our experience
waiting for a moment
to haunt, to howl, to frighten
To take us backward suddenly
like hurtling through a windshield
That slow-mo, car crash whiplash
that drags us out in wonder
We just can’t look away
No matter time or distance
the hold on us just won’t slip
The fingers tend to tighten
at whims we never comprehend
Their jagged, jarring, twisting grip
trying to slow us down

I’m bleeding out on the parchment again

With no one around to render aid

None near enough to even witness the moment

Those that could’ve helped have long since walked away

Left here in disaster wrought by my own hand

Tricked once more into believing

That I’d found something to share in

The beauty and the structure

Of the world I see surrounding

But as ever, I moved too quickly

So sure I’d found the answer

To questions I wasn’t even sure of asking

That I’d spilled my very soul

Without seeking truth in action

The mess of my own making pooled upon my feet

And the familiar weakness spreads

As I give up too much of me

And it falls upon my surroundings

Yet again I find myself collapsing under pressure

The emptiness inside leaves me weak and broken

Another mess to clean and another soul to rebuild