Jungle

the jungle makes no pretty scene, no postcard.
it pulses and thrashes, rehashing well worn woes
and knots new neuroses in it’s destructive dance
paying me no heed in its persistent twists.
I breathe and sweat and stretch
trying to stay on solid ground.
again and again
I am tossed
like a doll
into the tangle of thoughts
where my ankle twists in a vine
and another day is stolen from me.

no clearing comes.
except when there is the sea.
and when the arms with the school yard scar
hold me
and don’t let go.

 

Screen Shot 2018-01-25 at 13.44.20

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s