Clockwork Town

From the hull of ships
That could carry lake-fulls of rum
To an inwardly shrunk decanter
I’ve become

Not much liquor in my breath
Nor the stench of haphazardly formed texts
Perishing in the stampede
In the labyrinthine tunnel of expression

From thought to word to throat
Led astray by worldly distractions
But more importantly
Derailed by the inner haunting carnivals
At every junction

How, how do I go from being a brewery to a town

Functioning on an untimely schedule
I’m a clockwork town
Streetlamps lit with proses
Shadows cast by spectres of words lost

Either at the sword-point of flowing nibs
Or dispersed throughout the universe
Unfurling with exhaling breaths

Strand-ed

 

If I reach inside
Will I be able to grab hold
Of these flailing strands of thought?
Suspended wisps in a darkened void
Of not-knowing

Will I, well, am I
Any longer
Capable of acknowledging them
Honouring them
Instead of this recent practice
Of disrespecting by ignoring them?

Am I only a question-bearer to myself now?
Did I, in pursuit of some other quest, discard the answer-seeker?

A sledge to an empty carriage
From bereft did I descend to spent?
If so, is this it?
The limitation, the capacity
To capacitate all I’ve ever held within?

The tools to build and craft
The art
Breathing its last as I pen
This into a collected spiral
Which has soaked in enormities
Of creations
I was unaware I could shape

Perhaps, just perhaps
This isn’t the end
The credits haven’t rolled in yet
No, this isn’t it

This however
Is once again
A time period of transformation
And like every metamorphosis ever undergone
It’s carving its story onto cavern walls
Far, far from my textual, vocal cords

It hurts

Trapped

I’m plagued by thoughts

That into words I cannot mould

Stirred by emotions

And reflections I cannot fold

 

There is not a phrase

Or a verse I can form

To define this turmoil

Trapped within an orb

 

Made of crystal so fragile

It shatters at touch

Neither language nor expression

Succeed to be my crutch

 

Till they recede and calm

I’ll brace against the hypnotic lull

As these swirl and sail

On the violent seas in my silent skull