The thick, heavy hours creep behind me,
lethargically following me into my personal hell.
Life slows down and elongates itself
into eternity.
Time spawns replicas of itself,
burgeoning forth as every instant feels like infinity.
Each second hurls itself at me,
expectantly waiting for me to placate the duration with purpose.
But I am trapped in the confessions of
my head.
Anxiety spectacularly begins to
surface. Panic reproduces itself.
Each moment breeds another moment,
another opportunity to surfeit upon the frenzy of disquieting
thoughts in the indiscernible distance.
The battle continues.
My thoughts stage a hostile takeover,
targeting my unwillingness to listen.
Against my will and with the sanction
of time, the merge is complete.
The new memories come to me in waves, but
I nor my tears could have been prepared.
Time may stop now.
1 comment:
I really like this one. It is THICK -- like the hours, like your thoughts.
I truly hope to own a book of poetry with your name on it some day. You always write so deep, so meaningful. Like meat and potatoes -- has to be digested a while. :O>
-- SynthGirl
www.SynthiaMasters.com
Post a Comment