Just lovely that I can turn my inner demons into poems, eh? This way I can not only suffer from my personal agonies, but I can get widely mocked as well ... "Extra, extra ... read all about it ... pitiful sack of shit writes more morbid crap! http://i.am/btripp Read 'em while he's still breathing!" ...
FROZEN IN DAMNED TIME
so adrift
so unwhole
we are broken
and unable to synch
the world grinds on
full of malice
we are lost
with no relief
stuck in a zone
all grey and hazy
bits appear
welled from dreams
we start to act
yet every motion
stirs the mists
and melts the scene
below this surface
lurks a darkness
a vast and inky black
which consumes all
and reaches out to taint
all things of light
I am poisoned by this
unable to escape
we know that dark,
that shadowy evil,
it is the inner nature
of the sleeping mundane world;
no matter how we run
we are sucked into its depths,
gripped by its tendrils,
choking, dragging down
is there no end
to this nightmare here?
is there no way to free
the self from the insane world?
we find no paths
which are not illusion,
we find no roles
which don't simply mask the lie
- Brendan Tripp
01/06/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp