Sunday, 14 October 2012

The Paranoiac's Calvary

Eidolons rattle his cage when the daystar snogs the curling waters. The blaze upon the clouds harbingers the e'er ponderous tick-tocks beneath the sheets. Next is the undertoned utterance that ghosts around his sideburns. Oh again it will croon a common song right after a sunup stretch!

Parallel to a burning paper he crumples as to feast on a stray strength within. Just whenever, his sanity rides on an evaporating globule. Til the cows come home, he sees Tlaloc dropping a pendulum of conundrum. Sure it does dangle to yes and back to no. Nonetheless, paranoia  alone, decides its resting point.

Always he is combating against the mocking apparition in a counterfeit battle. How does he salvage himself from the perpetual ghost inside? He cannot claim victory over its invincibility. He is a nomad in a self-made labyrinth, and the only thing that wounds him is his own boomerang.



1 comment:

  1. I'm inside the labyrinth but I do not need help. I don't want help because I don't want to go out. Thoughts prick me inside and out but I've learned the art of succumbing to its pain. Crash me, bash me, destroy me. Who would mind? I don't. I am fuckin' comfortable inside!