I am seized with ailing thoughts
as my synapses loop masochistic hindsight.
I drift in hazy dreams of If-Then……
These fragmented sentences and words unsaid
give weight to thoughts forever unanswered.
These layers-on-layers of half-written plays gather dust
and I cannot brush away the scattered pages.
I glide through present day untouched by feeling,
for fear of feeling the pain of a life shattered
as it slowly circles the drain.
Oh! Tether present day to hopeful tomorrow!
Or I shall drift into meaningless past,
undone by its incomplete script
and tomorrow shall see today’s loss.
I must release this unchangeable past
or go mad from wasted hope.
♦♦♦
For introtopoetry, Day Nine: Apostrophe. An apostrophe is an exclamatory figure of speech, sometime started with “O”, often directed to a third party. Im not sure if this “hits the mark” but it suited my plea.
I wrote this some time ago, in a state of passionate exasperation, in less then five minutes one day when I was just fed up with ruminating over what was and creating dreams of what could have been. My struggles with obsessive thoughts have, thankfully, softened with time.
Picture: psychology today
Dear miss Gimpet, letting go of the past is never as easy as one surmises it might be for its tentacles ensnare us and turn our thoughts often in on themselves. I like this piece. I think ‘wasted hope’ is just that, wasted.
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And I like ‘tentacles and ensnare and thoughts imploding’. A creepy, but powerful trifecta.
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