Cyclic, I succumb to stasis,
patterns wrapped around me
like the noose on my neck…
With orbits of compulsion,
the world whirls inward,
churning up chaos,
axis askew.
Coerced by compulsion.
Gripped by gravity...
I’m still feeding
more loops through.
The tether tightens
as the circle constricts,
and I’m anchored down
by the pit of my throat.
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Author:
FallingAwake2 (
Offline) - Published: August 25th, 2026 00:23
- Comment from author about the poem: this is about the subconscious/habitual/ compulsive mental and behavioral patterns that keep us stuck
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Fränz Müller
Offline)
Comments2
Stuck indeed and captured by the mind. Well done
Sometimes that well worn groove becomes the gaping maw of the pit that consumes us. Excellent!
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