My Inner ~

 

My Inner ~

Beauty is in the eye,

Of the beholder-

And rings upon every small bramble,

With a resounding crack.

The shapes of my mind shift,

And the trees suddenly morph into soulless, dead things-

Ends formless and chipped.

The train tracks,

Stretch, far into the distance-

And yet I cannot see well beyond the,

Breadth of your exhausted face,

And your sagging braids,

Which you've put up into place this morning-

To forget,

The downing of your tear-stained eyelids . . .

Because they are not,

Completely open wide.

A gentle hallelujah,

As I sway to and forth-

My gentle past-time it seems,

Once innocuous-

Has now become a

Danger-inspiring dance,

One which is pulled from my lips,

And inside me,

Strokes a nameless flame . . .

And bursts into a thousand explosions.

I sit here and wonder,

As I look over the train-tracks,

Silently staring, forlorn and cold,

Why it couldn't have been me . . .

Who was there beside you,

As I block out the noisy volcano,

And place my hands over my ears-

Seeking to forget the . . .

Fire, originating from,

My inner ~