That feeling you get? That one you get when everything seems turned upside down and inside out? When your intestines twist and knot into a ball of writhing flesh and fluid in such a gross display of angry sadness that you wish that you could just pull them out? Keep them in there. Innards are important. The sickness will pass. One day you’ll learn to untie the knot. Easier if you were once a boy scout, but not impossible otherwise. Enjoy the poem today, friends.
Labyrinth
There within my core
A pit, like an apple
Knowing there is something there
With which i cannot grapple
My core is all in knots
My mind so full of nots
Here I sit and think of all the many empty lots
Where We might sit and think so many thoughts
These words do not release
This tension of declension
A descent so far to madness
That sanity seems so intertwined with badness
Down again into the catacombs
Through all this aching blackness
I look and see a pair of tomes
Filled so now with memories of sadness
A history so obscured in mystery
No one knows but me
No one knows but us
Perhaps we’ll fill a tome again
Perhaps we’ll dream that dream again.
Poems by Sam 