As the day grows longer,
Our shadows grow in stature,
Taunting the vanishing of the light,
The demons come to us at night,
Teetering on the precipice of sanity,
Swirling into the infinite abyss,
Longing for the embrace the shadows offer,
Yearning for the anonymity they afford.
The silence slipping in between words,
Giving life to social frivolities.
Maybe that’s where I’ll find the itch that lurks beneath my thoughts,
The imminent fall through the wormhole teleporting me to the tea party,
Where I foresee my ilk waiting, footloose and fancy free.
I have no rabbit to show me the way nor a spare oom from which to bloom.
I have only me, no tinkerbell teasing, enticing and tantalising me with that which others cannot see…
I yearn to be me.
Artwork by @marcomazzoniart