The rumble ever rumble prickle,
You know I love you know,
Erratic and unforeseen,
Dreaded and routine.
Beginning like an icy trickle,
To flow within to flow,
Dramatic and sharp-keen,
Beheadings in my dreams.
Or sometimes just a flighty tickle
Radio to non radio
Sporadic buzzing being
My metal ankle screams.
One night just one in memory that comes at night and calls to me and makes me feel appalled at all the erstwhile gall I had to not enjoy the bright white ball that was my life as CRACK it shoots a bolt of pain to waken me to start again…
Or just a gentle moonlit ripple,
Gigolo to Prospero,
Enigmatic cousin to the,
Best and worst of dreams,
This Static.
About the Creator
Conor Darrall
Short stories, poetry and some burble . Irish traditional musician, medieval swords guy, draoi and strange egg. Bipolar/ADD/CPTSD/Brain Damage. Currently querying my novel 'The Forgotten 47' - @conordarrall / www.conordarrall.com
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