Is crawling like a bruise across your face.
Your eyes sparkle, but not like diamonds.
The jittery voice that sounds like control
is a facade nailed on to keep hurricanes out.
I would like to help you but a drowner
pulls it's saviour down with them.
Staying near you will contaminate me.
I'll just smile and nod at your stories.
Watching the egg boil in it's own heat,
the turbulent frothing edges of lips,
hoping the flame will cool but it won't
because he's always there at the edge
of our vision, inserting his lies unsettling
the small oasis I've tried to create.
Sounds to me like you know what youre talking about. I can feel the threat. It's almost a claustrofobic poem to me...
ReplyDeleteThanks Angela. I am always surprised by madness, but it is everywhere.
DeleteThere is an undertone of some sort of discord. A sense of adjustment to the prevailing circumstances. A fine one from your end, Rod.
ReplyDeleteThank you, yes, always adjusting.
DeleteThis. Oh so this. I identify so much with the feeling. Wonderfully written, and I love the image of a crawling bruise across the face.
ReplyDeleteThanks Shuku. I know that feeling.
Delete"sparkling eyes but not like diamonds" great descriptor of someone in the throes of madness
ReplyDeleteThanks. I think I have had those eyes once or twice.
Delete