Wednesday, February 26, 2014


Cruel, gnarled lies spilling out of my head,

Wriggling through cracked wood like parasites,

Nesting in the walls, in the constant dread,

Hallucinating every hurt time writes.

My tongue drips with nothing, afraid to speak,

Afraid to let the pain pass into words,

Afraid it will die if I dare to peak

Behind the walls, down toward my innards.

I am locked deep inside my head, alone

I can't see you standing so far outside

Will you stay if you think that I am stone?

If I move how far away will I slide?

Melt down the walls. Turn them into drizzle.

Burn out the lies. Give me an empty skull.


  1. Sometimes the pain seems to much to hold in our minds. But we grow from the struggle. Evocative poem.