The Path
Green mist
passes before my eyes
tinting everything
an emerald hue,
clinging to
the ends of my fur
as I run through
this gauntlet of streets.
Blades of conformity
lash at me
trying to cut away
my individuality,
and weighted balls of suppression
try to knock me in line.
Deftly I dodge
each thrust and blow
heading
forward
without a destination,
just trying to survive.
Walls drop in
changing my path,
slowing my progress
but not stalling it.
A hunger starts to eat at me
and I chew on my arm
to quell it.
I crawl through
the mire of depression
and time becomes nonexistent
as I struggle to be free.
Once I’m out
I shake off my coat
and start my trek anew.
(When the physical doesn’t work)
the ghosts of my past
are released,
they float towards me
with severed limbs,
severed hearts,
and severed souls
all trying to touch me,
make me relive
their pains
that I created.
Twisting and turning
Matrix style
I evade their
seditious advances,
spinning and contorting
to fit through
the narrowing chambers.
On all fours I continue
picking up speed
as the slandering alley
cuts off the wind,
gaining just enough
to spring over
the spiked pit
threatening to impale me.
I hit the ground in a roll
and slide to the wall
breathing heavily,
looking toward my future path.
I see it doesn’t end,
so this is how it’s to be,
continuous traps and pitfalls.
The trick
is to enjoy surpassing them,
take time to reflect,
that’s the secret
the world hides.
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2008
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