Two Worlds….

I look in the mirror.  It is one world. It is like a picture of me.

The battle ensues–one of anger and one of apathy

another of love and another of  trust

still more rage…One of pain and one of sorrow

Then that of grief  and total indifference…

With all these wars, can any side win?

I think not.  In fact, I know not.

It may seem silly but it is all there-each facet

mentioning  two different worlds with the

duplicity in each facet as if it should matter

yet it doesn’t.  It just is.

If I Had Written THIS as a Teen, I’d STILL have ended up in the counselor’s office…Guess why

Another corpse choking

on a Kaiser roll

while a solitary bookkeeper

keeps track of a soul.

When the ink bottle spills

over a yellowed page

some demon in a hallway

hunts me down in a rage.

 

 

It is only Mephistopheles

who is keeping the scores

while his old pal Leviathan

vents some anger in the moors

Then children born of ignorance

escape their gilded cage–

but not before the fool seeks

some wisdom from the sage.

 

Don’t ask me where this came from.  Some times ink escapes my pen just as in the fashion words escape my mouth when I really get on a roll…If done verbally, it’s almost comparable to “verbal vomit” because I’m usually purging a few old ghosts…I write monologues once in a  while too, but as a teen, I never let anyone see all of it…If they had, they would have thought I went mad…Maybe I was in a sense. I definitely trusted nobody and I certainly was a hermit…

I find it odd that people think that solitude is such a bad thing when it really isn’t.  It depends on what one does with that solitude.  I used it to create my own worlds, characters and such–much in the way women writers did in the days of old.