five works in progress.

1.
Sometimes I wonder if insanity has crept
up on me.
So sly and quiet, it sinks into my skin like
a vapor
or I inhale it like Anthrax.
If it has at last come,
I wish it would wrap its strong arms
around me and contort
my body into a Full Nelson, if only
to get my attention.
This terrorist of the mind allows me
to believe that the shadows hold more
than just the illusions of dark
and light.
But, perhaps, they do. Perhaps I am
not insane at all.

2.
We'll dance.
Somewhere in the distance the sun will
finally appear, sneaking slowly,
slinking in a hesitant dance of his own.
Our hips will sway until an
ache settles into our bones,
at which time our wits will
continue what our bodies cannot.
Back and forth, we will hurl new thoughts
toward one another, hoping our
influence has been caught and applied.

3.
I glance, no, not glance; more like search,
every possible place that I think I'd find you.
And what would I say if we happened upon
one another?
I'd waste your time, surely, searching
your face after every witty line I
pull from my
arsenal.

4.
I have decided against you.
My mind has built a wall,
encasing you inside.
Never should I have ventured toward you,
knowing deep the one-sided, disastrous
outcome.
Foolishly I sought you, though I knew you
would never seek me.
So, I've given you up.
But what's this?
Your tiny voice speaks from inside
the tomb I've placed you,
offering hope, offering guidance.
But the mortar is nearly dry and
if I tear the walls down now,
they can't (or won't)be rebuilt.

5.
Is this how it is to drown?
Wave after wave crashes,
one upon another, lapping around
my head.
No need to put my ear in an over sized
shell when there's a kind of
thundering roar
each time my mouth opens.
I've made an attempt to grasp the
sharp, obsidian rocks, but my hands
come away raw and bloodied,
salty water stinging the wounds.