Am I never to be alone within my own quiet place?
Your faces appear in flickers amongst the rest,
Pushing away the last of this fragile sanity within me, Ghosts of my past crowd inside this brittle mind, Raging, lithium, hurting, claustrophobia, loathing, uncontrolled, Unapproachable of appearance and demeanour,
As greying air gathers upon me,
In projected turbulence it dances upon my whim,
It swirls of my turmoil and wrath,
Blackened in sinister whispers of a corrupted sub-conscience, Redlining my hissing and obsoleted gages,
Eyes bulge in bloods rushing,
Pulsating through ear drums in a tribal like beat,
As this fuse burns in an seconds splitting,
Mind shutting down until further notice,
Defaults setting take on this auto-pilot,
Teeth rock within their own canals,
As they grit in a spasm of lost control,
And fury’s lockjaw takes on its hold,
The only visible sign of life is pulsating to haemorrhage,
As possession automates this puppet in care less hands, This break-dancer in incoordination, Lurching in zombie fits and starts,
A mule for public flogging,
For just the misdemeanour of wearing this shroud,
My senses heighten to smell the storm carving its way across this horizon, Brimstone and fire to engulf all I know,
Beyond this satisfaction,
To where I beg and cry,
To dissipate this rampaging beast,
That dwells within these brittle walls of my fractured mind,
To a place of a cowering frightened child,
Locked away and long forgotten,
Within the hands of the un-forgiven of life’s jetsam,
Deep within the heart of me.

Mixed wood and coffee bean bowl with crystal resin, pre finishing polish. More at Bespoke Woods on Facebook

3 thoughts on “Ghosts

    1. Thank you, I often wonder if I am a human version of an infinite number of moneys on an infinite number of typewriter eventually producing a Shakespeare sonnet, maybe sometime I get lucky on the stringing together of words. Comments like this spur me on to continue.

      Liked by 1 person

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