by Claire Nixon
I discover myself misplaced
winding through everlasting paths.
I don’t belong at this point.
Yet, I yearn to feel,
taste and catch sight of
something real.
I have nothing to lose.
With gaping wounds
existence drifts away.
Pain and terror
develop into my pleasure.
Nothing is true.
I can’t help being confused.
This is what I wanted all along.
Last updated May 02, 2015