Tuesday, April 11, 2017

The Internal Turn

it starts slow, deep down
undetectable to the gaze of the eye
it digs in, foraging
carving space in the places you hide
it is simple, really
one unspoken word
the smallest thing
that you let slip silently by
once planted, the tiniest seed
begins to take root as if into stone
the root becomes a web
an intricate maze of lines
exquisitely forming a fortress
that cannot be breached
and then into the darkness
into the shadows, silence speaks
until all that you hear
is the empty hollow din
the lonely and the quiet
take over full control
and then in this prison
you slowly pass the time
minutes turn to hours, hours into days

and the blur of their passing
simply turns you numb
taking the edge off the numbness
with whatever you can find
your pour the endless loss
down your throat
then time is spent recovering
the vicious cycle spins
so that all you have to focus on
is yourself

1 comment:

  1. My Dear, think less be more happy. Dut down you mind as this poem is an never ending spiral into places best left alone.