Haunted

Inside out, the guts roam free.
The terrible truth of insanity.
Sex, power and money can’t
Match the sour in this stomach.

Rhythm claimed, silence conquered,
Routine found, resurrected again.
Sleep deprived, tottering nerves,
On the edge again and again.

Living a truth my body can’t stand,
Taking a dose of reality a day.
On the level, in the zone,
Out of hell, and right back in!

Mange of cruelty, sty of freedom,
Ebbing slowly toward the center,
Trudging through the abandonment
Of a lost soul, a broken heart, a death.

Imagine the pain, you’re there, I’m here.
Countered the plane of twisted confusion.
Day to day, the grind tears through me,
The tears don’t come, but they stain all the same.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

One thought on “Haunted”

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