Myself whole in an alleyway,
breath and whispers
of darkness slowly entering,
entrapping. …
a pale loitering light off in the
distance, lurking like
an unwanted stranger. …
embolden souls approaching,
bidding- their hands as shadows
clinging; my heart like clay, crumbling. …

A gun waving one minute past darkness
enwrapped my soul in gloom-
no fair dreams to follow, now woven in
musings fright. …
their hands deep within
stealing a part of my existence. …
the Air in the alleyway unweaved
the night- miscreants of social injustice fled. …
me, slowly aging, scarred- now
searching for the feel of not to feel it.

– Lance Sheridan

 

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© 2016, poem and phtograph, Lance Sheridan, All rights reserved

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