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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

Date: 1/28/2020 12:58:00 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
Date: 2/8/2020 2:51:00 PM

Thank you so much, Laura!

Caren Krutsinger

Date: 9/6/2019 4:45:00 AM

I would never come back either. Nirvana!

Michael Whatley
Date: 9/7/2019 6:04:00 PM

Amen, Caren! The cushiony black (pillow) is a frighteningly powerful temptress!

Besma Riabi Dziri

Date: 9/5/2019 5:07:00 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
Date: 9/7/2019 6:02:00 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

Date: 8/31/2019 1:48:00 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
Date: 9/2/2019 3:26:00 AM

Thank you for your kind words, Nette!