As the day ends I find myself slipping.
Slipping.
Slipping.
Slipping away into the unknown,
Never knowing, never asking.
As the day ends I find my self falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling down into the unknown,
Ever hoping, ever praying.
As the day ends I find myself searching.
Searching.
Searching.
Searching for things in the unknown,
Never finding, never leaving.
Slipping,
Falling,
Searching.
Will it ever end?
Autumn
The leaves fall quickly.
They once swayed calm on the tree.
They have no home here.
The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun.
The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut
Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut.
Fatigues with indolence, tiger and lion.
Lie still as the sun. The boa constrictor's coil
Is a fossil. Cage after cage seems empty, or
Stinks of sleepers from the breathing straw.
It might be painted on a nursery wall.
But who runs like the rest past these arrives
At a cage where the crowd stands, stares, mesmerized,
As a child at a dream, at a jaguar hurrying enraged
Through prison darkness after the drills of his eyes
On a short fierce fuse. Not in boredom -
The eye satisfied to be blind in fire,
By the bang of blood in the brain deaf the ear -
He spins from the bars, but there's no cage to him
More than to the visionary his cell:
His stride is wildernesses of freedom:
The world rolls under the long thrust of his heel.
Over the cage floor the horizons come.
Ted Hughes.
the room contains no sound
except the ticking of the clock
which has begun to panic
like an insect, trapped
in an enormous box.
Books lie open on the carpet.
Somewhere else
you're sleeping
and beside you there's a woman
who is crying quietly
so you won't wake.
Wendy Cope
I hide in the dark.
Where am I?
Where is my home?
Phantoms make noises in the night.
I am alone. I float like a cloud.
