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On edge, most the day…
Unsure when or from whom,
But darkness is looming &
Its presence swoons

Unease chloroforms each pore
Until suffocation is felt
Prior to the pangs and thralls of
Euphoria’s decline

Ligaments rigor as the automaton
within, perceives the grey edges
frayed by the uncanny sense of curdling inside

As in every battle, such a statement will be, impossible to refute,
A point of submission, in some way, shape or form appears, forgoing, perhaps not eagerly, yet it forgoes the thoughts of tomorrow nevertheless, withering in hapless poverty, seeking the salve that brings oneself relief—

But it is not for relief the welling stirs…it is not because of failure do the ducts flow swift…instead, it is for the forgiveness buried beneath, the salvation we saved for such a day…the one we never gave…instead we turned our heads and dragged each foot, in reverse, across the welcoming place

The nervous pins prickle in the strangest of sensations,
It is not pain, not yet anyhow…it is not pleasure, we’ve yet to
Sink to such depths…yet it wriggles, it twinges—around the eyes and
Across the brow, concealed below what is shown

This stirring sense of possession, forces us to reaction’s point…turning, slowly, as in the mirror, we realize…

We are staring into our darkest ally, our dankest sense of self, the master of the cogs interred, the villain well-preserved…For years, the fight I thought I was fighting…The fight I fought, was but an accosting of some true heroes dream…for all along, unbeknownst ‘til now, I was the adversary in this tale…


About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

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