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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Drudge of Joy

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What can I do?
There is nothing.
I can only begin
The start of almost,
Then all energy is depleted.
I initiate the end
Without ever beginning.
Spirit must fill the void.
Spirit must force my body
To clear away the dangers.
My shame is in weariness.
My strength fails me.
Where is the will?
Sometimes effort
Makes no difference.
Too much is damaged.
Too much is lost.
Too much.
So now I begin again,
Feast preparations.
For the children
And the children’s children,
I am a drudge of joy.
The joy is real,
The work a torment.
Perhaps again the
Punishment can be delayed.
Please let it be so.
How can I allow collapse
With so much expectation?
The dread is real,
The flares of electric agony
Are real also.
Pain is exhausting without
Relief for rest.
Distraction is the relief.
Words written to myself
My resting peace.
May this peace be enough.
Please let it be so.
I am a drudge of joy.
.
.
Bear … 04.04.2014
ⓒ Bearspawprint
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