More angst.

[jaydee]

While occasionally I do try something a little different like that last one, I do enjoy writing sonnets. They are a nice size for a single idea. Whether or not it is a nice idea.

Here is another poem from a while ago.


I'm pacing back and forth along the hall.
My hands shake, and my mind is in a mess.
I'm staring at this one spot on the wall.
The same familiar patterns. I confess
I know just what it is that has me in
this dreadful state - I know just what I need -
and that it's out of reach. I can't begin
to scratch this itch, to quench this thirst, to heed
the urgent calling from inside of me.
So thoughts and words the same old patterns trace,
there isn't a way out that I can see.
No matter that these thoughts are without base;
I'm trapped. I lack the power to break through.
I'm stuck here in withdrawal, without you.