[Written on 11/8/2016]

there is a storm in my mind i can’t quell,
though with chipped, tearing fingers i have tried.
and as a result, i have ravaged them down to a mess of mangled seams,
a mess that resigns itself with bumbling haste into its nether, earthy grave
ever breathing ghosts of supplication into the chasmic bay of an ever-condemning night
a night stippled with star-eyes trenchantly glaring, each pointedly huddled away from my scrabbling, mortal scopes,
each pompously cradled in overhead navy nooks of lofty assurance.

–

there is a storm in my mind i can’t smother,
though with ragged, lurching lungs i have tried.
nursed a kingdom of faux-cries that fall wheezingly short of clarion caliber, each one thawing unloved and in a sorrowful, wailing hurry, desperate to be rid of their shriveling scorned selves.
why ever were we made, come the lamentations, ridden…