PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

panic

so thick

grips the fragile strings that hold

the frailest of sanities

a lamp dies somewhere in the night

a blanket is turned

pillows cradle a tired head

filled with fragments of dreams



and still, the gears of my consciousness

are turning with a thunderous sound

it was the gushing of blood to my ears

asthma attacks and magnified fears



when your eyes are closed

everything is real



overhead, i am carving holes into the ceiling

will i  find a way

from each point to futile point

that i may map out a destiny?



will it have your portrait?

or an artifice molded by your hands

for my centerpiece?

will i have nothing?

just bleak ink stamps,

frayed nerves and ripped seams?



i inhale deep

yet i can't breathe



panic

strikes at the core of my heart



when it comes to this

i think things to death

i chew my own ropes

i paint morbid scenes

and so i can't breathe