Damage in transit

Damage in transit

 

I live on the border of reason

Often struggling not to disappear

From the frontiers of hope that sometimes

Seem so far away

 

There are days when the emotional weather

Is close to overwhelming

And sand bags around the senses

Are in danger of a breach

 

Then life becomes so tiring

Because, by any measure

Especially those that I impose

Everything falls short

 

And I am left in the claw of dismal

A tightening fist that excludes

Light and hope

That lingers in the gaolers stare

 

For moments like these

Are death

As I reluctantly wear the symbols of life

Why do I bear this grudge

 

Why am I so famished

So torn

Bereft

A living. Dying thing.