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A spectrum of memories // etched in // directing
Synaptic obscenities // fetching regrets //
Count those dour mental entities // concepts like insects //
Innumerable enemies // wielding their sketches

Of interlacing, undulating, thoughts I’d never saught to see again
It’s raining, awful tortured claws of water dripping down my neck
Engaging like the famous horsemen four of the apocalypse
A brainwave tells me faught or flew is not an option, it’s past tense
And it’s passed any means of remedy - my enemy’s my friend
And it’s last orders on the corner where I’m standing with a ten
And if I bought at four I might, instead I waited ‘til seven
I test the borders and the corners of the realm of temptation
Daily thoughts of pickin’ up…

…When all the pieces come unstuck
And I thank that’s It’s a familiar pattern
I piece it back together, crumb by speck by dotted flame, refuelled lighters on the bristle of tobacco peering from its paper nesting, used now to light a subtle torch, the lightbulb in my head, a spotlight thats located a second answer -
And I thank that it’s a familiar pattern
As I know how to piece it back together.

Tomorrow, do the same thing again,
But tonight, a glass of water then bed
Dreaming of keeping the faith
Dreaming always


http://samnicholasharrison.tumblr.com/

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