Poised On The Brink.

  Poised on the brink


Poised on the brink
of a long dark drink
in the cold

waters of death
I am a bridge between
life and oblivion,
my own mind the key,
to the rock of ages
that holds me now.

Time is a mime
waving it's hands
in silent screams,
pale faced

and desperate
it shortens my dreams.

Squatting butt naked
I bury my head in
the crook of my elbow
which steals

all sight from me.

Just a somersault
between a rock
and a harder place
would erase,
any hesitation,
bringing a

suffocating peace.

but the birds

over head fly on,

and I realize then,
that I would

matter little,
if I perished

by my own hand.

Life would press on,
leaving me a

comma uncurled
in a box with many

other unimpressive

characters abandoned.

Just a tiny

useless footnote,
as something far more
novel rolls on,
the "Story of Life,"

less one

inconsequential edit,
me, myself and I.

So I rise, and find
the strength to

face another day
forsaking my

 morgue clothes,
and putting on
something far

more suitable 
for co-existence with
the world I

sought to flee.







More by this Author


No comments yet.

    Sign in or sign up and post using a HubPages Network account.

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs will be hyperlinked. Comments are not for promoting your articles or other sites.

    Click to Rate This Article