taking up residence in Nowhere’s Middle.
I think how comfortable you are.
I want to make you uncomfortable but
you’ll forgive me. Probably.
Discomfort is the trip explorers pay for.
I want to drag you into the darkness
and shine a light
on the secrets you keep from yourself.
My stories are about your secrets.
I probe your doubts with my tongue.
I prick your fears with a million little needles
disguised as words.
My mission is to crawl inside your mind
to rearrange the furniture
to peer in cupboards
to reach into the rear of the junk drawer.
I dig behind bedroom walls.
I pry out dirty little truths
with sweet lies.
I write on your nerves.
You read on the edge of your seat.
Not everyone who deserves to die
will be killed.
Few among those you love will survive.
We’ll explore the cobwebbed basement together.
Brace yourself. There’s no armour over your heart where we’re going.
Once you think you’re ready,
see the world as I spin it.
Let’s take a trip into the Deceptive Familiar
at the sharp Edge of Nowhere
where heroes and villains
trade black and white hats
for fun and profit and meaning.
We’ll find dreams and treasures
amid the foundation’s ruins
and Ruin’s foundation.
Take my hand at the top of the stairs.
It’s the only way to see everything
and escape the tangled net of secrets
you keep in a three-pound box of bone.
“I write on your nerves.” Love that!
You know what happens when you shine a light in the dark though? The roaches scatter. 🙂
Thanks, Sonia. I use dark poetry for the Table of Contents of This Plague of Days. I might use this for Season Two or Three. Haven’t decided yet.