I read into the night
until I can no longer focus
on any one point
and my thoughts are as garbled
as the skewed images I see
and, despite insanity
and a tumbling frenzied chant
inside my mind
I have at last managed
to stave off the silhouetted figure
I always catch from
the corner of my eye
and have shuttered the sounds
of his hasy, desperate seduction;
his voice threaded with need
and confident control.
And the arms, so fierce in grip
that brands me a possession
no longer find a way to cling
to the protective shield
of the madness hours
as I rest on the brink of too much
and nothing.
Comments
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Hmm. I have a minor suggestion but its just one that I would've used in writing a piece like this. It feels like a relay of things that have happened; so, I read it over putting everything in past tense and I found it, in my opinion, to flow easier. Then again, not my poem. I'm just an opinion giver.
Now, as to the aesthetics of it all.
I love how it runs on. It gives personality to the emotion portrayed, a certain panic in assurance:
"despite insanity
and a tumbling frenzied chant
inside my mind
I have at last managed
to stave off the silhouetted figure"
I also see the tell-tale signs of insomnia which do have the affect of worrying and calming a person. I've experienced it many times, some closely related to what you've written about (I believe).
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Been there
Come to me all you who are burdened and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
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