A Nonsensical Scribble

A Nonsensical Scribble

Vivid colours,
straining, yearning,
closeted between hues,

weaving tapestries,
flowing through shades,
dissolving my swirling blues.

Rainbows merge,
singing plaintive dirges,
etched on dusty rough sleeves

urgent scribbles,
humming notes of woe,
hurriedly embossed on fallen leaves.

Melodies quicken,
words entombed in mouths,
fading, trapped in emerald green,

seizing dreamscapes,
blurring glimpses of truth,
slipping between visions unseen.

My heartbeat gallops,
committing ink to paper,
donning a smile blatantly comical,

I catch myself napping,
stirred by a nagging realisation,

the scribbles, much like the scribbler,
seem to be, quite humourlessly nonsensical.

SSRI’s and I

SSRI’s and I…

… the sounds of thoughts clattering, my neurones sparking,
like Dylan said, my morning recedes jingling and a-jangling,

worn down by this leaden knot, tearing my insides out,
the cacophony drowned in a whisper, lost in a silent shout,

dreams and screams scratching the back of my dry throat,
caged in, liberation hovering like a mirage beyond the moat.

I claw my way, slowly, through a thicket of solitude,
feeling my emotions peeling, stung by unseen nettles,

crawling to an open field, to rest, beneath a sky ablaze with stars,
as my mind glides, brushing the soft grass as it peacefully settles …