Michael Whatley Poet Free verse

Fractured Realities

I surrender my body to the place of great relief
Where sights dissolve
and sounds concede
Existing, only inside
Where living means to die
To wander the lands of misrule
To experience the fates I have yet to meet
My senses benumbed by the cushiony black
I'm never coming back

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Laura Breidenthal January 28, 2020 at 12:58 PM It's so easy to get lost--and often very difficult to return to the rest of the world when we have no will for it. I love this poem, Michael! "To wander the lands of misrule" - love that line. Always, Laura Michael Whatley February 8, 2020 at 2:51 PM Thank you so much, Laura!

Caren Krutsinger September 6, 2019 at 4:45 AM I would never come back either. Nirvana! Michael Whatley September 7, 2019 at 6:04 PM Amen, Caren! The cushiony black (pillow) is a frighteningly powerful temptress!

Besma Riabi Dziri September 5, 2019 at 5:07 PM "Where living means to die"! we definitely "surrender"! What if life turns to be not just a mere existence but a life that fills all the senses! Your ink, Michael, is worthy of a lively feel! I enjoyed reading your poetry.. Best regards and blessings. Michael Whatley September 7, 2019 at 6:02 PM Thank you so much Besma! You actually touched on another concept that I find fascinating: that life can be boiled down to just "sensory fulfillment". This one was actually a cryptic description of dreams and nightmares but I think there is some magic in finding alternative deep conceptual meanings.

Nette Onclaud August 31, 2019 at 1:48 AM while still around, enjoy every nectar of life's ventures...it'll be easier not to come back!... greeat job, michael...thanks for your coming by my page... huggs Michael Whatley September 2, 2019 at 3:26 AM Thank you for your kind words, Nette!