Archive for December 2018
The place in which he lived
He clutches it tight.
The walls paper thin, but no light is let in.
Buried inside, its secrets sit entrapped and out of view.
Easy to carry around, not a struggle for you.
On the outside, its appearance remains the same.
Same color, same face.
All seems well.
But its wings are sealed shut,
only opened to fill with what you conceal.
The weight thickens. It can no longer fly.
You can hardly hold what’s inside.
Your grip starts to abandon your lifeless hands.
The final descent of it all begins.
The wings unravel.
The secrets escape.
It crashes to the ground.
Destroyed and crumbled, flattened.
A box when closed let’s in no light.
When the fear settles in
The fear enters the blood stream — my veins harden at the thought.
The doubt sews and ties the wires up above, but short circuits abound.
Smoke clouds sight.
It’s no wonder it’s called the nervous system.
Too negative. Too destructive. Too worried.
About a state of mind that tends to takeover.
A state I only tell you about,
for others eyes would roll at the suggestion.
About worry itself.
It’s perhaps my greatest fear of all.
About why sitting still is one of life’s impossibilities.
About why silence is often too loud.