I sit
enwrapped
in my task
drowsily like
a living shadow
meandering
over my
enraptured
body entering
my very pores
upon reaching
the level
of my face
I start to see
the blackened place
evils start to
fight for
space inside
my mind
taking up
the power
vacuum
the silence
leaves behind
the inky black
cloud
of unsound
starts to rip
it grabs my
leg
swipes for
a quick trip
as I stumble
taking an
unavoidable
tumble
I finally break
the Stygian spell
falling through
the fissure
as the darkness
Starts
to dissipate
landing
with a thud
scraping nails
and a whimper
skin on pavement
enough to kindle
the spark of
lucidity
K.B. Silver
Sometimes, I will be sitting there minding my own business, reading or doing some dishes, only to realize I am starting to panic. I am running down a list of terrible what-ifs, and behind those are actual terrible past events playing out in increasingly horrific detail, until I start getting dizzy, and it hits me, it is silent. What happened to the music?
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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