In agoraphobic dreams
I see walls,
growing roots deep underground,
like hastily constructed subway tubes
stretching under a major town.
Above,
the surface sees them
reaching high.
Big brick trees,
building themselves
piece by
cemented piece.
Shattering the thin sheen of sky.
Pouring down a deluge of tears.
from the eye of a storm that sees the pain
and can but cry.
In this agoraphobic dreamworld,
the shades of grey swirl,
menacingly across the dark black
tinted glass I keep my peace within.
The mirror shine windows
only reflecting grotesque views.
Vines and roots cracking through
the brickwork like arms reaching
out from under the dirt.
My thoughts are starting to hurt
like something in my brain is leaching.
My sense of self swoops silently
out of the sulking window,
as it is quickly bricked over.
Sullen darkness serenades me.
Seduces me, entices me
to accept solitude.
To demand the solitude
of this beautifully fractured world,
I've splashed erratically across my canvas.
In agoraphobic dreams. I don't scream.
More that my voice
is a constant grinding sound,
echoing from every beam.
Resonating with the frequency,
frequently flicking the lights
on and off
to mess with my sanity,
whilst pushing
looming shadows
into my view.
Distorting the days into nights,
and nights into windows of solitude.
The only saving grace,
is the photograph of you,
letting me know
that somehow I'll make it through.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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