The Fray

Days and hours,
A week,
Maybe a month
I lurk in the shadows.

Look
Find facilitation,
Take feeling,
Still it never has enough of the good stuff.
Drinking beginning fluids
Still never quenching
The depths in my bones
Only a brown fog of
Something
Somewhere…

Greed…
I see greed
Pouring out of me
Through need
And want to feed
On power
On feeling
On what?
You’ve got high’s and lows inside of you
You’re full of it
Makes me queasy

So day in and day out
Burns out
It becomes a chore and my muscles become sore
Bored
Tired
Burned out
I’m inspired up to my neck
And I can’t breath anymore

Songs in my head…
Loud silence.
A vessel of violence
Touting peace.

Resuscitate my childhood…

I wait
Let my stomach empty
And detail come to me
My ears hear the brustles of the brush
The crunch of feet on the stones
I slow,
Indulge in self
Until the fray fades
Into nothing

And the tug of war’s ending
Flowing out like a sea
And a turtle carries me
Now life’s clear,
I just need to be

Laughing, Learning,
Riding the wind
Observing yearning,
No swallows,
A sentiments ending’s
Never hollow

Just following the beat
Of the feet of a heart
First
I had stop
For it to start

The Fray…

It nearly tore me apart.

 


-Ben

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Photograph by mali maeder