My Deep

Slow, pounding, rush of blood like drums in the hollow ground
Flowing through my veins as the voice of my conscience,
echoes through the night

I breathe
But the air is stale, polluted with words I call anything but home
Rusted, fear controlling the shadows of my misdemeanor
Coagulating deep within my skin

Desperation, hands shaking like twigs in the cracked earth of destruction
Crooked and twisted to fit my faces of many
Like the mask I call my world

The end tells tales of unknown finishes
Reasons to let it go into the foggy night of that which is me
and my deep

HGM

1.22.08