A Sense of Sixth

I can’t hear the night with the lights on. They blind my ears, destroy my focus. A tiger of fear stalks their shadows, creeping up to capture my spirit and te...
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I can’t hear the night with the lights on. They blind my ears, destroy my focus. A tiger of fear stalks their shadows, creeping up to capture my spirit and terrify the little boy me. I can’t see her face in the music, where I go to hide away from her. Songs I used to sing to her image are my new door to freedom in their legion of sadness. I can’t find my ass in the dark with both hands, invisible arms, a tactile prisoner of light, whose eyes demand proof and purchase, the illusive wall of life. Wednesday took the lies of summer, wrote them on a book of leaves, divided amongst the winds, scattered to hither and yon, tablets in stacks and stones beyond.

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