Dancing On The Edge
Dancing on the edge, looking for a boost. A repetitive action which creates a noise like gravel in a bucket, pouring out onto glass. Forever changing direction, parsing thoughts into a box. Attempting to make sailing the world my game. Proposing that purpose come and reclaim my destiny. Fate is another word for disrupting the course of history.
Changing lanes and rewriting the description of my mental reverberations–crooked paths and broken steering. Leveling hope against the rule of justification. Pushing envelopes in a race against stagnation. Proving a theory before the game has ended. Forgetting to lock the door on the perception of loss as grief.
Lapsing into regret is a pastime for the critic. Highjacking priorities is his very special appointment. Always kicking foolishness to fuel the catastrophe. Whereas, victory left the party twenty minutes ago, for a good night’s sleep.
On my own again, perishing in confusion and bleakness. Ten kinds of pain and an insanity breathing dragon. Calling her name, while awakening from a horror show, heart recovering. Normal rhythm spreading through the room. I’m opening my mind to a new kind of reckoning, perhaps to reconcile my thoughts and fears on a burnt and smoking battlefield.
Post Information
 Post Date |  Author |  Comments | Originally Penned |
|---|---|---|---|
| May 29, 2023 | frankie | 0 Comments | May 29, 2020 |