Where I lay

Life is like a glass hand
Never moving, often sharp
A solid crest on which I spin
Directionless and fast
Holding back deep-seeded fear
A branch on which I fall
Lost in vain my passions rage
Relentingly I crawl
An eye of which is blind to some
Yet open to another
Thrives on lust
A body’s shame
Shying now from cover
Removing clothes
Reopened wounds
Exposed to heating air
Longing for that gentle smell
Reminds me that I care
The stilts that stand
Offer to gods
What we don’t understand
The love we bare
Can crush and break
Yet act under command
Still lost in love
And lust and life
In dark is where I lay.

Where I lay

Flic Manning

St Kilda, Australia

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