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Afternoon Terrors

Internal heat and bubbles,
prologue,
all good
vacuumed out.
Vicious guest is
despondency.
Eyes turn
on themselves
stab wickedly to end all.
But there is no end.
There is no good.
Stillness,
save me.

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This entry was posted on January 30, 2011, 2:21 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

  1. #1 by Sirenum Scopuli on January 30, 2011 - 9:38 pm

    When you are in the most pain, your writing is the most powerful.

    There is good. There is an end. Wait for it.

    Reply

    • #2 by Carl on January 30, 2011 - 9:51 pm

      Thank you for your comment. The idea to wait is hard to get to, but change will occur.

      Reply

  2. #3 by Evelyn on January 31, 2011 - 9:30 pm

    “Stillness,
    save me.”
    whew. indeed.

    Reply

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