my meandering mind … … …

Billie Holiday by Banksy

… … … on cycles of trepidation,
on waves of flagellation,

galloping thoughts scatter,
misfiring synapses shatter,

twisted suspension of unbelief,
scorched neurons bereft of relief,

whistling tuneless solitary epics,
soon to be half forgotten relics,

my mind plunges,
my heart lunges,

grasping,
                grappling,
clinging,
               clawing,

scraping the veneer away,
revealing the emptiness of day,

succumbing to slumber,
soothing my meandering mind,

where thoughts no longer plunder,
and where my restless dreams,
are no more torn asunder … … …

the seesawing of my mind

sleepless nights creep past,
clawing at the edges of my mind,

days spent shuffling through the blur,

adrift, untethered,
clambering through the thicketty haze,

anchorless,
lost amidst the racing minutes,
revelling in an insom-maniacal daze,

at times reeling,
feeling spent,
torn,
broken,

the words, the scribbled verse,
for better or worse,

a sanctuary, secluded,
shielded from barbed tongues,
barbed words casually spoken,

seesawing, walking the tightrope,

clinging,
fingers scraped,
wreaking bloodless wounds,

the quest continuing for a shard of hope,

the ability to cope,

staying afloat,
bracing the torrents,

ever mindful,
of being perched on the precipice,

of my seesawing mind,

fearful of sliding up-down,0
the perennial slippery slope,

a man on a wire,
no safety net, no rope,

aching to stand up,
to walk unaided once again,

through the fog,
the blur,
the haze,
the daze,

lashed by these blizzards of pain,

through the thicket,
on a rapid runaway train,

hurtling against the embedded grain,

seeking respite,
craving refuge,

from the incessant,
ceaseless,

slicing rain.