Far from Below

All my writings have come from sorrow

From me engulfing myself in my own thoughts 

To my raving madness that storms my head

My days where my eyes only see chaos 

My thoughts only create thunderstorms 

My ears hear only gusts of agony

In the nights it’s silent

It’s dark in my head where only a thudding sound occurs 

My fingers twitch and ache with anticipation 

Wanting to reach through the depths

And touch what can’t be 

And with cold sensations running against the skin that lace me

I can feel the inevitable fear that tries to shake me 

It’s a pitch black laugh of high pitches 

Low screeching tires of a drop top with no wheels

Just blocks of blocks that block my mind to discern between the wrongs and the 

Right

There’s a leaping wind over my shoulder 

A ghastly sight that seeps into the cusps 

Of my earlobes 

So I can only hear and feel my balance tilting 

From something urging me to lean out and feel the rushing open empty space

No dots sprinkled my visions

No ledge for my grasp to grip by the fingertips 

I just fall into a deep and open pit 

Breathing slowly from the rushing air 

Into my nostrils and out along the edges of my teeth and tongue

I felt nothing as I hit nothing from above