A knot forms in the center of my gravity,
that twists and turns as a murderer to his knife.
Beads of perspiration travel my skin,
hands so soft and supple begin to quake.
Panic ensues me,
pulsing with the steady beat of a drum.

Liquid life flows thinly,
from scars and wounds left behind,
from the past,
and the future.
Enraging fury bestowed upon me.

Horrified to see what was plain and beautiful,
is now defiled.
Walked on easily;
as through freshly fallen leaves in
autumn cool weather.

Graffiti on the red brick wall,
in plain sight for all to see.
Detrimental deeds done to come,
around again.
Karmic retribution.

It is not black and white anymore,
more gray areas to choose from.
Too many choices to live by.
Ideas come and go with a flush,
from the political toilet.

Paranoid delusional atrophies,
hinged to the stakes and hung from
the rafters.
Support inhibited by lack of quality,
more concerned with quantity.

Sufficed to say,
that who,
in the end,
suffers.

09/20/2001

Posted on 09/20/2001
Copyright © 2024 Stephanie Myers