Everything is chaos.

Battering winds, flying debris,

Blood, bruises, lightning

Deafening crashes – …….

 

Respite. A few seconds

In the eye of the storm, I stand

And brace my soul for the next

Wave – immerged, submerged, drowning.

 

And so the cycles waltz along

As I stagger looking for shelter

In any shape or form,

Pure, distilled, strange or familiar (mixted or dry).

 

Until I’m caught – softly softly

Brought to see the calm & charm

Of these here shores, our own.

 

There’s a half-moon stain

Deep dry red on the table.

In another room a glass

And the unmade bed staring, empty.

 

Echos. All that’s left

Of wine, and chills, and new ways

To fix my wavering will,

Gather the screaming winds

 

And be still.