Reels

The constant urge to run
Was this instilled in the mind
That had it’s beginning
As a blank slate

(this constant urge to run,
it's beginning a blank slate,
instilled in the mind, when?)

Sitting in a darkened room
Staring into space
The old movie
Plays again
And again

A disquieting alarm rises
From somewhere deep within
A place where it was long buried

(from somewhere deep within
a place long ago buried,
a disquieting alarm
an old move plays again and again,
I drift off off, staring)

Now shaking off the
Dust of time
The silenced whispers
Are once again heard

Ever tearing at the veil
Needing to be recognized as
Valid thought

(I shake off time's dust,
silenced whispers ever tearing
at the veil, recognize a valid thought)

Why are they still alive
When I murdered them
Long ago
Do they own more than
One life?
Or is it only mine
That is wanted

(long ago, I murdered
these thoughts, so I thought
Do they own more than one life?
I wanted more,)

A constant urge to run
From past loves, lies
And things that can never be

While the movie
Begins again

( [lose the while]

the movie
begins again.)

Use any or not, Chrys.

~A

I like the bones of this poem, Chrys. I suppose that's one criteria I have for critiquing, and of course, whether or not folks will be gracious enough to accept the critique although I don't expect my suggestions to be used, only considered.

~A

Never listen to me, Chrys, lol

it's is its and I bitch at everyone else making that error. it's is the contraction for it is.

Read the rest later.

~A

Why are they still alive
Long ago, I murdered them
Do they own more than
One life?
Or is it only mine
They want?

They are ghosts, shades and shadows. I feel their dark skeletal fingers in my back as well! I don't think they ever go away for very long. Great dark piece! I loved this one, nice flow and structure.

love, Cat