I Don'T Really Know You................
You trickle through my mind like a meandering stream.
You infiltrate my normality and drip, drip, drip annoyingly
into my totality like a tap in need of a washer.
Thoughts of you tug at my nuerological pathways,
butting in, interrupting constantly throughout the day.
Flashes of your words perforate mine - I say what you would say.
Yet I don't really know you - you were a glimpse,
a spectre phantom ghost:- when I turned to look you'd gone
and I'm plunged headlong, on free-fall into confusion.
My mind buzzes, frenzied with manic thoughts of you.
You are seeping, creeping like a pool of molten lava
down the mountainous pathway that is my reality.
I retrace my steps half-hoping that I'll find you
but scared in case I do. Looking with semi-blinkered eyes
into crowds of milling strangers, perhaps they're looking too
for a glorious illusion, an escape from the mundane.
I walk, I run through crowded streets, see shops of discontent,
I find vendors selling fantasy, and there you are again.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
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