Michael Whatley | + Follow Poet |
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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

Copyright © Michael Whatley | Year Posted 2019

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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 Login to Reply 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! Login to Reply 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. Login to Reply 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 Login to Reply Michael Whatley Date: 9/2/2019 3:26:00 AM Thank you for your kind words, Nette!