Fear in a handful of dust

Fear in a handful of dust | Memento mori art, Art, Memento mori

 

Words cannot echo mood,
It’s impossible to convey
The tingling numbnesses
Of the grief I felt today;

The semi-detached daze
Of continuing depression;
The tight closing-in of the dark,
That stark foreshadowing of art..

The fear that accompanies
All that  I do,
Meanders like an ox-bow lake,
Can take years to breach the gate
To the dangerous flood-tide of suicide..

Depression gathers to a greatness
Like an ooze of oil beneath the skim of soil
All the threads of all uncompleted hesitations,
Decisions, revisions, passing consolations,
Always leave me in this bloody mess
Of sense impressions.

Each contradictory set
Of firings in the brain
Sets me on this rocky road,
Again.

◄ Questioning?

BEGGAR ►

Comments

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Martin Elder

Fri 9th Oct 2020 19:29

very nice
I like it a lot

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kishore karunik

Thu 8th Oct 2020 23:38

fine

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