My straight, five faces turn to me
In strait, the bay, the sea
I finally see the depths
In shadows, a killing in contempt
My Chemical Divide
A sea and tide
Broken, shattered waves
My Bonnie and Clyde
Your chagrin
Conjured in
Clockwise spin
Time pulls you outward to the storm
I'll hold you together when you're falling apart
But my trepidation and pendant will float us to the start
I don't know if my expression is a form of past tense or chronic depression,
But, my tension in poetry or prose, leads and lights the path to stressed hyperextension
I stand by, waving my fylfot
You see, see me, jot an ink blot
Sometimes, the very thing that makes me want to kill myself, saves me from it
YOU ARE READING
Poem Book
PoetryA literary tête-à-tête to help myself get by. You will find both poem and prose in this public diary of thought and representation, but a cliché name never hurts anyone.
