pointless…

somewhere deep within
phantoms are known by their echoes
impossibility looms in self-righteousness
daunting and daring self confidence
insist to disdain idle thoughts
pretending vague truthfulness
where none  may exist..

in the far reaches of solitude,
there exists a sombulent wave of fear…
or something quite like it… but not quite terror
or panic among the calm insanity
that lives within the caves of reality
and tempts a lonely,  fickle heart
dreading sudden freedom.

a loose and undisciplined dream
ricochets from wall to wall
and up the night draft that captures a laugh
that hides helplessly within the gasping
lungs, awaiting a chance to escape
into the realm of what-might-have-been
opposing the dawn of maybe-tomorrow

somewhere a poet dutifully records
a thought that has no connection at all
to any that came before…or awaits its turn
to intrude into the closed tunnels
bursting to gain permission by insinuation
or threat of making it into the light of the mind.
Or stay trapped in the bindings of the soul.

©Sometimes, 2016

 

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