Posted by: Devin | March 29, 2013

Like Glass Insects Breaking

What do you call it when you love life,
You just can’t live it.
You have the wick but not the flame,
The body not the soul.
And the shivers in you quicken
Shake a mountain off your being
And a canyon’s ever growing
Between desire and ambition

To fall down,
To fold up,
To crack
To turn to dust and wither
Shake like leaves become decay

A mudslide of desperation
Struggle fast to grab ahold
But the warmth and lack of movement
Is somehow comforting
This jail cell of non-motion
This locked-up, rusted gate
The key’s been choked down
Left to erode by acids kept inside

Dreams and visions of journeys outward
Of pathways never tread
But all the effort is alarming
Anxious terror swarms
And, shivers like glass insects breaking,
Curls inside once more


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