I see all this upon my skin
The wear and tear
Of love and pain
Of hopes and desires
That flare up like a rash
The scabs of past memories
Fester away, itching and flaking
I pick over the memories
Like a seagull on a rubbish tip
Make the wounds bleed
With every thought
Of past mistakes
Memories dark and dank
As I linger in this cellar
Of my mind.
In the darkness I find cover
Invisible in the shadows
Huddled in corner
Shrinking away
Curled up like a ball
These monsters and demons
Of my own making
So beguiling and seductive
With their words and strokes
As I loose myself in this maze
The golden thread long since snapped
As I tumble and fall.
Brother Gomez
(aka Nigel Symon)