A landscape fragmented by fissures, Kneaded and proven as far as we could see. No step without reminders, Precarious and brittle, Of how the ground was sadistic. We learned to hate, The borders that valleys drew, With depth and no … Continue reading
Amid the cobbled stones,
And scholars I had my days,
steeped in manners and respect,
Generating a heady tincture of esteem,
that I thought was illegal.
Doors held open.
Hands used to greet and guide,
And words I’d forgotten could be so much more,
Than just filling out the spaces in-between.
Forming a banquet of discussion.
A guilded and charmed retreat,
Where I was someone.
Vitality seeped into the the void
that anxiety had left bare.
A beguiling contrast to what came before
And I was drunk on it.
Giddy on the newfound flush
Of invisible circuitry,
That only reveals itself in books
And Sunday morning gallops
I didn’t know that the switches
For fear and delight,
Were housed so,
I didn’t know that breathing
Could feel this easy,
Without someone’s approval.
I didn’t know I had the power
To authorise this shift.
(c) Accidental Tentacles 2016