Dark Heart of Me.

I have these dawning moments when:
everything around me tightly closes in
tunneled down by a tornado’s spin –
and at end of the tunnel –
lies the booming realization;
I have these dulled down memories:
so very many once meaningful things
carved, imparted on the dark heart of me –
but I have let them fade away –
no new recollections to retrieve;
I know of some of the sacred divinities:
many of the Elders have shown me things;
drawn like a map midst the Mysteries –
however, any mystery is gone –
what fills its place, tastes despicably;
I live midst a sense of danger and doom:
like a shadow cast down by a permanent gloom
no matter where I go, it’s with me in the room –
it’s impeded upon and seeded a part of me –
not likely to change back again anytime soon;
I display a die-hard tendency:
hardens the hardness of the people I see;
deepens the darkness of the world around me –
 yet, I lead all the horses down to water –
and wait there until each one drinks;
I am modified by the things that I’ve survived:
skin on my body from cells that weren’t mine;
ears pinned to my head for a while, like Frankenstein –
these things were never easy on me –
but they’ve sure made me feel alive.
I try my best to remember to look ahead:
to not get myself tangled in the ‘said and done’ web
not to worry about what he or she might have said –
no matter what anyone will try to contrive –
we’re each just another day closer to ending up dead.

Growly Monster.

There’s something dark that stays with me;
ever-present within, and threatening;
at least two blatant steps ahead,
of the slippery tread,
that I beat.
Can’t get away from its angry, clenched teeth;
or the burning inside of my chest cavity;
cerebral pounding in my head,
the growly monster under bed,
please, shoot me.
A shadow that laughs as it follows my feet;
at my dwindling sense of any real thing;
eyes that paint everything red,
a body, gone brain-dead,
just finish me.

Dark Heart of Me.

I have these dawning moments when:
everything around me tightly closes in
tunneled down by a tornado’s spin –
and at end of the tunnel –
lies the booming realization;
I have these dulled down memories:
so very many once meaningful things
carved, imparted on the dark heart of me –
but I have let them fade away –
no new recollections to retrieve;
I know of some of the sacred divinities:
many thing shown to me by the elderly
drawn like a map amidst the Mysteries –
however, the mystery is gone –
what fills its place, tastes bitterly;
I live amidst a sense of danger and doom:
like a shadow cast by a permanent gloom
no matter where I go, it’s in the room –
it’s impeded upon a part of me –
not likely to change anytime soon;
I display a die-hard tendency:
hardens the hardness of the people I see
deepens the darkness of the world around me –
to lead the horses to the water –
and wait there until each one drinks;
I am modified by the things that I’ve survived:
skin on my body grown from cells that were not mine
ears pinned to my head like Frankenstein –
these things were never easy –
but they’ve sure made me feel alive.
I try my best to look ahead:
not get tangled up in any said and done webs
not worry about what he or she might have said –
no matter they say about the end of another day –
we’re all just one day closer to being dead.