“Edges” by Scott Sparks

My aches are awake
In a hurry, I’m late
It pains me to say or even think to stay
Whatever I hold, I’ll try not to break
Under covers handmade keep me secure
As the feeling returns to once deadened nerves
I’m still unsure
Clinging, all the while, to my definition
Of familiarity as its clarity filters muddied waters of recognition
I’m still me; though, what’s my purpose?
It makes me nervous to think I could be so observant
Imagine a dark cloud seen as nothing more
Than a minor inconvenience edging the horizon’s shore
Such passing calamities can alter our vanity
Photo-shopped ‘til what you’ve got is truly the tragedy
Things of that nature cannot be airbrushed
To accentuate its aptly pleasing features, for there are none
More or less, it’s best to learn to decipher
Between a phase on display or the dire need to rearrange your entire life


—Scott Sparks

About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
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