I have a certain chaos swirling within me.
Desires that are out of reach.
Passions that would rather eat at me, than grow with me.
In the center of my being I can feel that void open up.
It's tendrils moving through my solar plexus.
Snaking through my body and wreaking havoc.
There is no better feeling than having something in the palm of my hand.
But what use is attaining it with such a mass within me.
When it works it's way down my arms.
Draws my fingers in,
And crushes all I aspire to be.
There is a chaos infecting me.
Intertwined with my thoughts.
Synapses firing in protest to the darkness.
Creating naught but bleak awareness.
The only thing yet to fall.
A muscle, most resilient of all, yet oh so fragile.
The core, the soul, in the grip of uncertainty.
Undying hoping tied from heart to soul.
Pull us from this eerie muck.
So I may give a fuck.
YOU ARE READING
Reflections (Chapter two)
PoetryFollow my rise and Experience my redemption, as I fight back against all that haunts me. There will be poems dedicated to others and how they help me in my rise, and there will be standalones where I forgive those who put me in the pit to begin with.
