Re Wind

I'm not feeling myself
anymore,
scenes long gone
glow in my scars
and anxiety shreds my patience
should I fail to paint the picture
perfect.

I'm running away
this time,
running scared
of the hatchet season,
the obesity sessions.
Reason has ceased to exist.

I am fraying
blind and uncontrolled
like a posessed Picasso
as I close my eyes
to replay useless images
in this storm I call a mind.

I'm running away
this time,
heading for the exit
of the static prison
where locks are insecurities,
created by a dizzy trauma.

Haunted in a place
I no longer want to be,
hunted but never beaten
by a vandal madness.
I'm getting out
peeling off the layers of
neurotic stains.

I am not rewinding
this time,
not rewinding any time.
Sick of doubt baying for my blood
tired of this juvenile cancer,
sunlight must touch
these bone flowers.
It ends the cactus jive...

@Steven Francis Poems 2001