Back In Under

The repetition of screeching

to a halt but slamming into old familiar walls. I keep

searching beyond curtains and grey matter, wading

through muck and marrow, colliding with mammals

whose mouths are ribbon striped dusty caverns,

exquisitely shaped by wind water time. I can look

in the mirror but I am afraid

to close my eyelids. My eyes roll

back

in

under

take

a frightening look

inside.

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About theminstrelscitadel

In search of courageous souls who aren't afraid to dig a little deeper and have a conversation about all manner of things. Rant, rave, debate, discuss... let's do it!
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