Trying to decipher between my delusions

And my reality.

Spinning swiftly into a spiraling cone,

I lose all sense of reflection.

If you listen closely, the empty air howls,

Signs for the future.

Dizzy from the impacts, perplexed by the idiosyncrasies.

We’ve been here before.

To fill that void,

Void, void, void, void, void,

A hole dug so deep there’s not enough dirt on earth to fill it.

A gyre spinning you round so unsteadily,

Swallowed whole by the lines you were given to read.

Like an incessant buzzing that won’t quit,

Cornered in the dark intersecting walls of your subconscious.

Emotions move stealthily in the opposite direction, Avoiding contact,

Dodging interaction.

Self-doubt triumphing,

Leading your best life,

Wrapped tightly in your web of delusion,

Reality can be, at best, bearable.

At what point is this void recognized,

heard,

felt?

The missing piece of a puzzle,

we get by being almost complete,

imperfect,

ModaMadison September 2018 issue