Light Bulb

I let myself slip

into the folds of my imagination.

Constantly second guessing myself

before questioning the things I’m told

and between these misunderstandings

I make assumptions like I were coming to conclusions,

like I were branding my name into the leather of my life

and I’ve been in this position before,

it’s like I’ve never taken notes long enough to learn

to avoid the things that burn through bone

where the things that I’ve been shown

were only thrown into the thresholds

of all these thoughts I’ve left to think for themselves.

There’s now a growing concern for the ones that dwell,

those recurring dreams that swell into surroundings

like crumbling castles housing too many jesters.

I still have a single thought that festers,

making gestures for the thing it cant speak,

flowing over every word I say

until the muffled ones

begin to decay

into a single idea that doesn’t even make sense.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

2 responses to “Light Bulb

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