Saturday, January 31, 2009
Needle on the Record
collapse veins and attack my cerebral cortex
Biting through tissue, corrupting the soul,
polluting the mind.
Slowly taking control.
Control taken slowly is torturous,
freedom songs travel treacherous pathways
to help me
breath deep like these is last days.
Endorphins escape from self imposed solitude,
and make a break for it.
I am stranded.
Hanging by thinly intertwined strings
interwoven thoughts, and ideas, and experiences
cultivated by hand, inspired by gods.
I lie still.
I still lie.
I still lie in wait for help to come.