Rabid, raging, cold.

Distrusting, baring teeth

at any kind soul

trying to rescue me.

I try

to lyricize my thoughts,

so raw and chaotic,

they get caught

in the saliva and froth

as I choke to compose

hodgepodge word-mosh

into some kind of prose.


a wounded animal


but trying to heal,

assuming all that come near

are trying to steal

meager scraps,


making a meal

of a deteriorating spirit,

so I attack

whoever comes near it.



Do not fester or stagnate,

Do not become a hypocrite,

Do not acquiesce,

Do not succumb

to bitterness;

Don’t grow numb.


Fate, guide me.

Sun, direct me.

Moon, console me.

Love, consume me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s