I Am Not

.
.
What is that
That is eating me
My own nerves
Chewing through
My skin biting
Going out and
Gouging going in
Dis-aesthesia’s
Tattooed arabesque
.
What is
This darkness
That slides
Down the wall
Wilting flowers
Growing mildew
In my books
All words replaced
With landscapes
Confused with corruption
.
Veiled curtains
Rotting as I watch
Do I truly want
To see beyond
Silvered mirrors
Flake away
Revealing reflected
Shadowed faces
Almost unseen
Uncaring of wild
Tangled hair
.
Unnoticed settling
Heavy in my heart
The weary darkness
Bathes me
In rivers of nettles
My body dances
A jigging cramping reel
Spastic leaps
Escaping from myself
Macabre’ stars
I am not
.
Each half thought
Letter by letter
Dragged heavy
With sticky mud
Unwashed dropped
Just outside
In night again
I am not
.
What is gone
Something
There was
Something
That was here
Just before
I flew through
The missing roof
I was here
Balanced comfortable
On the cross beams
.
I am not
.
My self traded
For muddy letters
Discarded
.
I am gone
My body is hollow
A shell of pain
There is no one here
I am not
.
Shall spring arrive
Draped in black
Bees swarming
Eternal night
Hives empty
Black carpenter
Ants constructing
Termite wars
.
Merely
It is that
I am not
In my place
A fire burns
.
.
Bear … 01.04.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015
.
.

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7 comments on “I Am Not

  1. Genie says:

    It’s the scourge of patriarchy.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. willowdot21 says:

    You are describing me. xx

    Liked by 1 person

    • I am so very sorry, Willow.

      It is about time for this to all ease up. It’s not something you should have to get used to.

      … And I didn’t even mention some of the symptoms that probably bother you the most.

      Wish I could greet the morning with Drambuie, now and again. XXXXX

      PS
      Arabesque is a surface decoration style, not, in this instance, the ballet step.

      Liked by 1 person

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