Chasing the Proverbial Tail

whispering handswhispering hands Under your skin Posts: 13,527
edited April 2007 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
All alone inside my head,
I'm a walking member of the living dead.
A pleated crease acrossed my soul,
From angry words that were swallowed whole.
The walls around me, start to spin,
And the chase begins all over again.
Frothing and toiling to be set free,
Never a glimer of hope for me.
I don't know what I am trying to find,
But running these circles is never kind.
I fear that someday I'll flush it out,
And it will kill me without a doubt.
But I keep on running; moving on,
A million curses each time I yawn.
A weight at my feet; dragging me down,
In the grasp of insanity I slowly drown.
But even forsaking all of this shit,
For one reason or another I just can't quit.

this is the prequel to the poem Occupied, only I couldn't find it when I posted the other.. oh welll outta turn is better than never at all!
Post edited by Unknown User on

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