Another Excerpt from an In the works poetry book. This is about the internal verse the external.

The Shell

Contained and careful
Cautiously en-shelled
Believing the world to be roomy
Was not truth standing tall
Large with classic lines
Against one wall
Containment not yet named
Remained invisible


As I grow cracking the shell
Knowing not where
All form falling from me
Trading truth for existential risk
Standing on bare air
Breathing
Thin and sure replacing
Abstraction for connection


Fingers enter openings
Bodies kept cold and shaking
Laughter rattling, echoing like tin
Against bare white walls
Smear and feel
Of viscous materials
Blood, semen, feces, vomit
The vile smells of rot

I could breath if I chose
Consider colors if I chose
A special child
Evil thins to absolute abstraction
Weakened it is substantive, embodied
Ghostly cold as midnight ice
It can be touched
It could touch me

Rising
Curling in a corner
Rocking
Watching and listening
Time passing
A kaleidoscopic show of terror
Of Pale blue absences