Sunday, December 3, 2017

whatever.

reigning the horses in

&

Being torn apart on the reef

In some relentless high tide

Where I can’t get a foothold

Against moments of anxiety sickness

Pressed against the clock

Into service, against desire  

Where everything feels like piracy and corruption



Like riding atop a draught horse that forgives nothing

As everything falls beneath the gallop as ruthless empires of thought

In moments I trample over anything that could be construed as opposition

And in others, it decimates as choppy waves in an upsetting vessel  

And I press my hands to my skull and the tears I cannot hold any longer, fall.

Torrential, in a way that I cannot harness, in a sorrow I cannot name  

As the storm of myself reels out of control

to be prescient in their thoughts as the pent-up rage peels their souls from their form

to feel them as their beings pour into Hades, dragged down under the currents

I want to hold them to the fire of my form as they incinerate in strife

and still, there is no they, only me, only I remain

adrift upon an endlessness I cannot place

reigning over creatures that I cannot consolidate

broken within a form I cannot clearly sense

dreaming of a nature that has not yet come to pass



and it is the perversity of hope that keeps me at the helm

compelling me into the sequential moments that comprise a lifetime

I have these visions where it all works out

And I am left wondering how to reign them in

Beyond the veil of my own delusions
And still within the power of my own reach.


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