I think I might be

getting worse

–

seeing things

out the corner of

my eye

focused towards

the all engulfing

darkness

lashing out

–

thin tendrils

engorged

full with spite

merciless

cthullian mammoth

tentacles

crushing my ribs

forcing the last ounce of air

from my lungs

wheezing out

a pitiful wail

as a death rattle

echoes in

my swollen throat

–

this creeping dread

encroaches on

the shoreline of

eroding sanity

washing away bright grains

of sun bleached surface

revealing darkness of

pumice stone and

bed rock

less than skin

deep

–

i am the saboteur

of my own agendas

the lobbyist endorsing

unfavorable policies

selling myself out

with no purpose

–

i am cold

numb

wretched

and no longer find

the sweet joy of laughter

in the isolation of

self seriousness

–

i am an island

no more man

lost to time

too innocuous to be plotted

on any map

–

i too have lost myself

within these cold

choppy waters

–

i could walk in

–

who would stop me

–

stumble into

thick brine

drink deep the salt water

pickling myself

preserved

as sea creatures

harvest my remains

–

at least then

i’d no longer endure

the horrors my own mind

subjects me to

–

how vile it is

that he misremembers

so often

constructing facts of

patched fictions

–

how it takes such

sick satisfaction in

causing me to ruminate

to exaggerate long forgotten ills

while i succumb to fear

anxiety induced

nausea

–

only here in the dark

with music in the background

drowning out these

cruel

suffocating thoughts

ringing

like tinnitus

do I find the relief i

crave