Unsettled

The tapping on my walls

Shoots like bullets through my head

Leaving soft impressions

On a tattered mind.

So wrapped up in thoughts

Like a present,

Unaddressed,

Waiting to be torn open,

I lay impatient and wanting

Only the heat of your fingertips,

Dragging across my skin,

Feeling the maps of my veins

Leading to dead ends

And undesired destinations.

Reviews

[...]

. superbly written ... those last two lines are especially powerful ... i know about those places too well ... i know about being led into them ... perhaps they who lead us do not know where they are going ...

[Bobby]

This poem can be understood in more than one way. I like it. The mystery that lie there, and still the feeling that there is nothing uncertain inside. I feel you are already far off in front of me as we talk about poems, so I just have to say. This is a damn good piece of handwork. Continue with this. Love, Bob Walker!