Inner Commotion


I wrap myself in shrouded silence,
sharp as a blade, pointed at my breast,
so every breath reverberates
through it’s lethal steel
and I am reminded
of the fragility of my beating essence.
I see the solemn smudge
settling upon everyone,
positioning itself between happiness and me,
an uninvited passenger.
I carve this melancholy into stone,
so I might chip at it, hammer and nail
dissecting the flaws of former times
and containing it’s power over me.
The colors are muted,
painted in layers of charcoal grays,
disassembling the light around me,
muffling it’s melody.
This darkness sits between me,
claws curled around my spine,
My perpetual third wheel no one can see,
as it separates them from me.
The sun swells with fevered rage,
ashes fall like summer showers,
Painting my flesh with ebony defiance.
I sink beneath the dirt,
retreating into solitary places,
consoling this invasion of sadness,
sculpting it’s path as it races through my veins.
As my flesh stretches it’s wilted limbs upwards,
leathery wings take flight,
I relish in the secret charm of pensive contemplation.
And yet, the quiet passenger smirks,
cold, unforgiving,
taking over from where I left.


9 thoughts on “Inner Commotion

Comments are closed.