Shapeless Beasts

Although it is frowned upon, I often compare myself to others. It is human nature to gauge progress by some scale. The scales may vary, but we none-the-less equate our lives or successes to those around us. Yet, it is important to remember this less than ideal characteristic and be kind to ourselves. This is an imperfect world and we are complex beings. We cannot be expected to be so confident that this self-doubting flaw does not rear its ugly head every once in a while. The mere acknowledgement reveals our passions. The ones that drive us to pursue impossible successes that lie within our dreams. Some passions lie dormant for so long due to those cruel shapeless beasts named Fear and Anxiety. The internal swamp of harsh realities which plague effervescent potential is where they live. Deep in the recesses seldom explored. Great big somethings. Massive abstracts keeping progress at bay. For some this is fuel. For others its paralysis. Eternally struggling to harness its abundant power.

***

Ripping, gnawing at the seams of our souls

Betwixt the weak and frayed edges

Held together by sinewy threads of self-intimacy

Claws that gnash and shear the strands

The closed spaces over exposed

Air gaping into the wound

We yank and pull at our provisions

Rummaging for an aide

A quick fix, a moment of peace, something to dull the pain

Little do they see whilst this all is interior

***

Salt stained cheeks
Whirling silences plaguing stilled minds
Berating idyll thoughts with woes
Self-inflicted invisible wounds
Evoking the slumbering beast
Ill aware the occupancy
Creeping… looming