I use my own numbing agent,
calling it 'knowledge'
I pump it into my veins
with no regard
there are no pills,
no drinks or syringes;
there are words
devoured en masse
in the pursuit of something more;
just a distraction
from doing;
I too am haunted
by my dreams
Month: February 2024
On the Edge
where is the space
for the quite one,
is there still love
for those at the edges -
any warmth -
must every moment
be filled with action and sound,
could there be another way;
if I need space -
need room of my own -
to let my mind
trace a path through its thoughts
am I an outlier;
am I wrong
if these quiet moments
feed my soul;
stopping to listen
you can hear
the heartbeat of the earth,
just ask those
silent upon the fringe