Sinking

I see those looks
and I’m sure they’re there
and there’s a bit of you still depressed,
but there’s also me,
myself and I
that’s still acting this obsessed.
It’s just that lonely
trace of actions
that’s pushing us to our needs,
like those physical features
you barely notice
that have us just wanting to feed.
Take those things
to those darker places
where the good and bad combine.
Where the doors don’t close,
or even take their presence
because what’s hidden no longer shines.
I can see myself
in the steps I take
when surrounded by despair.
It sometimes fades,
but still stays low
when all that I need is air.
We fight for these things
that need to be cleaned
as if they’ve constantly been used
and in this way
we’re all together,
so constantly confused.
But there’s always a light,
only the shape
is always changing.
It escapes between
what stands in the way
and never shows signs of aging.
These gaps in forms
keep moving around
to reveal where the shadows begin.
They change in focus
more often than shade
with the contrast flooding in.
These shadows crawl
as far as they can
to the tips of different things.
Where only what moves
can break the lines
and our sounds cant do a thing.

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About Sean O'Gorman

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

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