Tristan Robert Lange

Unwound

Lips flaming,

Burning numb

Like menthol.

The tingles tinge

My mind\'s eye.

Beware the sty

That swells bloated

Beneath.

The wreath,

Mangled and gnarled,

Hangs noose-like

Around my senses.

How did I get here?

I wonder,

No, I wander.

Really? Both.

The blind leads

The blind

With muted perception.

Here it is:

The misconception

That I am lost.

I\'ve been lost

On an island of despair.

There.

I\'ve been found.

Profound.

Layered reality

Cakes on like icing

On the cherry-topped mind.

Ooh, who doesn\'t like dessert?

Deserted,

Yet still around.

Again, profound.

This won\'t take

Me down.

Went to town.

Went in the blue car.

A mundane journey,

Not very far

Are the worms

From their purpose.

Fertile is the ground.

All around me

The sky reaches down.

Now, that\'s profound.

The explosion.

Inside we ate,

But did not dissipate

Our kinship of tears.

Love hurts

Even as it heals,

Even as it steals

Me away in the night;

But, there\'s the blight.

It\'s not right

To bring that sight

Upon those souls

Who love me.

The tinging tingles

Tickle.

No longer a burn,

The cooling sensation

Satiates the soul

Seeking the burial mound

Of seething sound.

I can’t stop

Being profound.

There!

I’ve unwound.