Sunday, July 18, 2010

Paranoia

It happens,
Like all things lugubrious. First
Creeping from the darkest corners
And then stalk, stalk, stalk.

The little heart gets frightened
You turn around and see
Thin air.
You're drowning in undiluted paranoia.

And the stone faces, the
Barren trees clawing at the late night sky seemed
Satirical. Twisted jokes in your head
As frivolous as lace and sequins.

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