Invertebrate tombed in the dark nadir
Wrestles in its sleep
Worm of lore, covets gore, brain to bore, tender core
Wrenches free from slumberland
With precious souls to reap
Mythical foe of Clan’s Folk calls
To children in their beds
Tender years, awake in tears, Sandman’ fears, covered ears
Teasing from the bravest souls
But the youngest quake in dread
Noxious worm at the end of the world
Breaks out into the sun
Scours the plane, seeking brain, causing pain, stealing sane
Finds prey on the Borderline
And drills the Fragile One
I wrote this poem in July 2018, during one of many stays in a Mental Health Clinic.
The Artwork came first. I think it took a few days to draw the skull because my concentration was compromised.
I wrote the poem one evening before night-time meds. And as you can see, it must have been a dark time.
A short poem exorcising the thoughts from of my brain. The original was just one verse, a Moment in Time, but I have expanded it to fit the constraints of publishing.
I don't know if there is a lesson, or anything at all, that anyone else can take from this experience on paper.
Except possibly, that drawing, painting, writing, composing, or anything that helps get the thoughts, out-of-your-head. Can drag you back from the Borderline.