my hands shake
whether from the chill
pervading the room
or the anxiety in
adrenalized spikes
stabbing down my spine
making this fundamentally
flawed house of cards
i seek sanctuary within
less a shelter than
a lesson in incompetency
from a failed architect
trying too hard to hide
his scarred topographic
map of dire depression
in a bipolar babel of
indecipherable moaning

i have become
indivisible from
the broken child
sacrificed in
sullen serendipity
a manic mannequin
in broken repose
a stained refrain
in strained disdain
bleeding out in
a tempestuous ire
of self directed
counting cards
as they tumble lazily
in a suffocation of
demurely denatured
debilitated dreamspasms

One thought on “shaking

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