Slouching into the cold switching warm sofa embedded with my energy print

Walls imagining to be closing in

Nausea welling up the will collapse

You’ve been by my side day and night

Chills running through cold veins

Fear creeping in

Smoking on my own

Loneliness pours from my soul

Where has the woman who could stand in her own, comfortable from being alone twenty four seven?

Reggae music soothing the ruffles that grow three heads

Spinning waves of lethargic subconscious appearances

Knowing the truth yet not being able to embody and live it

No matter, feel alone in the singular unbearable pit of a universe this soul experience perceived to be

Regurgitating the same archetypal phenomena surround dramatic spin

Smoke dancing in ether, wafting past my physical space vehicle, a suit jammed on for a needle of a time

Heart appearing somewhat alien, drowned by the numbness strung by fear and karmic peturbances

Cold flesh folded against eachother, purched in the forever of this sensory world

Yearning for the outer dimensional truer in feeling realms

Conflicts marinating in the juices of the poisons yet remedies of 0my mind

To be pampered again betwixt turmoil by this intelligence

Thinking the thoughts many think, yet do not manifest

Absorbed in the dense energies of the haze

Visions blurry

The accessory of the yesterday’s pains attaching onto the auric field

Current disturbances the children of the past

Outer world glued together

Inner sphere chaotic drooling mess

This figure tapes up her soul’s tears, sinking into the blackhole of sludge dragging the ship down

Fiddles with the tape in-between

Acts socially conditioned recognisable

Boiling up, flaming up

The pan is boiling and bubbling

Containing a brew of vague understandings yet few are those that chose to know

Trapped in a vinyl disk, eclipsing across the deck

Asking why she is not home yet


Addictive pathways delved into and pulled out of

Whispers of a new tomorrow

Sinking ships melancholic blues

A despairing lost pixilated blur

Wailing silence deadening the corpse she’d become

Only she felt her subjective experience, ultimately in her creation

Of gun fire wounds, horror and sickening fear.

~DiosRaw, 03/06/21

4 thoughts on “Poetry {89} ~ THREE HEADS RUFFLES”

  1. Incredible, I have read it twice, you have an unbelievable talent with words. So many questions I would love to ask…. will ask🦋

    Liked by 1 person

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