Poem: Unravel


Beginning to unravel the mystery of humanity,

as the days bleed into the nights

and without gaining insight

or absorbing unused energy,

everyone concluding what’s left doesn’t matter.

For there’s nothing to feel,

to see, to do, to be, or to hope for

because sitting too long at a broken table

with it’s legs cracked,

and screaming for glue to hold it together

is what makes the chair swivel.

Not wanting the discomfort in unfamiliar faces,

attracting despair and fear,

allows ignorance to be left untouched,

  creating deeper pockets and sharper corners,

wider cuts and longer scrapes,

while the bruises yearn for band-aids.



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