Words descend in quick succession,
Jagged bullets from polar centres,
Sharp and stinging into the eyes
of the open.
The world spins and wrenches,
Through an unintelligible series of axis,
Until all sense of reality falters.
A taste of metal with no vector,
Light with no clear provinance,
And so the unknown slips between,
The cracks in our belief.
Maybe there were times,
When I confused the fragile with the wretched,
Because I didn’t know the key.
Binding up the tongue,
Waiting for the charm to release me
From someone else’s guilt.
An unsettled compass
Pulls and pushes the origami of this house,
Blending every wall into the folds,
A spell to disconnect all senses,
But words can’t steal my gravity
And swaying in this conjured turmoil,
I can still find the pole star.
(c) Accidental Tentacles 2016