Chapter 35: On Being Seen, and Seared

Another woman, another time and place,

another version of me,

I need to be free,

my soul seared,

constantly chased,

I try to flee.

… Her withering glare of contempt.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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To Sleep, Perchance To Explain (Alas, Scientists Still Struggle)

Something happened.

I did something in reply.

“Everyday” life.

Exhausted, again, I sleep.

Sleeping giant? (I can dream…)

Sleeping dog? (Best to let lie…)

Who can tell from the outside?

Perhaps tomorrow will help.

Regardless, better a live dog (even if sleeping),

than a dead lion.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Dripping, Seeping…

The tap keeps dripping…

Relentless,

remorseless,

uncaring, it seems,

that with each additional drip,

it is stealing another piece of my life.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Insecure Existence

Desperately seeking security,

we embrace opportunities,

and perversities.

Deception we realize too late

as, gutted, we lie,

unmarked grave.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Gutful

Sometimes you’ve had too much

(a gutful)

before you’ve even begun.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Respectfully, Complicated & Compromised, I Fall Down

Every year it gets harder and harder to commemorate

the event,

not because *it* means less to me,

but rather as, the longer I live,

*everything* seems more and more meaningless.

… There is a difference.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine Fades…

Nothing’s really changed,

but it sure feels like it,

now that I have seen,

perceived, experienced,

loss and death.

Sunshine fades,

pale memories.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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