Bad company.

Fear of loss is a fickle thing;
it passes, returns, crests and passes.
For me, it is timely and at times invisible,
other times far too visible –
horribly so.

People lose, gain, love and are pained;
a cycle without beginning or end.

Attempted assassination of the heart, mind, body, soul
makes one’s head foggy, full of smoke.
Vicious talons, vicious talons,
do tell me where you’re headed.

As music fills my ears, the world dims,
my words become a mess,
my voice, my honest voice, is all I have.

Attempting to make my thoughts reality,
perception-worthy marks on my psyche,
I find I often fail.
None of it makes much difference most of the time.