somewhere

I am deterred by many beasts, somewhere inside myself I restrain the urge to express outwardly.
I've come to be timid and lush in the ways of barely existing outside of my body.
I haven't felt covered in much but fear since the day we declared us all lost and immoral.
I've grown concerned that somewhere inside my body is my soul.

Reviews

[M. Shepherd]

Ugh that final line implies such a bitter disdain for oneself, that your soul is somehow lost in the vessel of you and inaccessible, as though it could rot away in there - with that is the implication of duality, which is a fascinating and unexpected thought coming from a poet who's drawn to the macabre and often writes nihilistically.. I love it though. Within its drudgery, by virtue of the assertion that lost or drowning or not, your soul (whatever you may conceive that to be) exists, and that means there's hope.

[W.k.kortas]

There is a novella in that final line. This is spare in the best sense of the word, not incomplete by any means, nor is there any fluff not sitting around not doing the heavy lifting. Fine, fine stuff.

[. serah .]

~ of course there is... and that core has not succumbed to comprehensive cynicism yet... it is not numb... it has an identity which expresses itself... and has done so... in this prose poem... so very beautifully... ~ perhaps it is trying to understand the difference between morality (which tends to be culture-specific) and ethics (which are universal in nature)... ~ it's great to see a new post in your pages...