I think I might be
getting worse
–
seeing things
out the corner of
my eye
focused towards
the all engulfing
darkness
lashing out
–
thin tendrils
engorged
full with spite
merciless
cthullian mammoth
tentacles
crushing my ribs
forcing the last ounce of air
from my lungs
wheezing out
a pitiful wail
as a death rattle
echoes in
my swollen throat
–
this creeping dread
encroaches on
the shoreline of
eroding sanity
washing away bright grains
of sun bleached surface
revealing darkness of
pumice stone and
bed rock
less than skin
deep
–
i am the saboteur
of my own agendas
the lobbyist endorsing
unfavorable policies
selling myself out
with no purpose
–
i am cold
numb
wretched
and no longer find
the sweet joy of laughter
in the isolation of
self seriousness
–
i am an island
no more man
lost to time
too innocuous to be plotted
on any map
–
i too have lost myself
within these cold
choppy waters
–
i could walk in
–
who would stop me
–
stumble into
thick brine
drink deep the salt water
pickling myself
preserved
as sea creatures
harvest my remains
–
at least then
i’d no longer endure
the horrors my own mind
subjects me to
–
how vile it is
that he misremembers
so often
constructing facts of
patched fictions
–
how it takes such
sick satisfaction in
causing me to ruminate
to exaggerate long forgotten ills
while i succumb to fear
anxiety induced
nausea
–
only here in the dark
with music in the background
drowning out these
cruel
suffocating thoughts
ringing
like tinnitus
do I find the relief i
crave
