Chaos Comes Quietly

Intrusive thoughts are expensive

Like a fine wine, they age 

Altering like shadows of a lampshade

When the bulb is loose

They bruise, like peaches

Lying stagnant in their crates

Melding to my experiences 

Blooming when im still

They are convincing, prolific liars

Berating their truths, fading mine

Until I believe I am the peach

Bruised and wilting

I am the lampshade, unsteady

I am the expense, and my life

Costs far too much

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I enjoyed reading your poem it leaves the reader thinking upon the theme it proposes. Good art she always have the audience contemplating an idea it presents. Thank you for sharing your work.