Between Actuality & a Psychotic Embrace

'Not those who run'

*

Terror found myself under nights fevered sight,
sooner than souls sought true bedight;
I had non choice in ultimate price;
heard creasing of floors break beneath intruders flight,
corners exposing places to hide;

could you've taken cues from mine eyes fright;
cups of flooding hands tearing...
was mine voice too soft for hearing?
further down hole by minions pulling...
days to years I've fought the fools deceptive bullets;

were exceptionally talented drinking up mine energy,
lie back & take the invasion generously,
slip under quiet reverie,
till life's enclosing jeopardy,
yet, wiser I've hoped to have grown from dismal yesterday's,
leave as many broken pieces out,
turning them towards storms distant cloud;

&
stirring memories reach from pits,
seams mine heart won't remit;
I'm still just as mad about it,
grips throat when smile splits;
Who told memories eventually fade...
feel logic tossed mine rational perception under sharpest blades?

await another days peek,
whist to awaken what hides under skin deep -
the war...
is rarely won,
till the bleak dissipates of chasing sun -

undoubtedly, rest waits for not those who run.