Poem – “Gentle Hectic.”

“Gentle Hectic.”

The stars live and breathe
in the cuff of my sleeve.
It’s not enough to believe,
you must feel the fatigue.
Deceived;
the beleaguered mind state levitates,
a sporadic heart rate elevates
and I pace back and forth
debating what direction to choose.
Any will do.
but if I stand still I loose.
Words begging to be heard.
A man begging to be cured.
They resonate within me,
perhaps more than I know.
Fate calls from the seams
and the walls in between,
but I can’t will an answer.
It’s just the caffeine,
laughing at all the cars passing, asking:
Who are you?

Behind closed doors,
I fear I’m more and I’m less
riding the coat tails of spent cigarettes.
Where success seems an endless hallway
out of reach
unless the mind, made a mess
by this un-named distress,
has some lesson to yet to teach.
It calls out from the vale,
disconnected and stale,
but master of misdirection none-the-less.
A perfect reflection of imperfection
and me, just me.
A cold, gentle hectic
reckless collective.
Craving acceptance
of a mind resurrected,
and I’m left wanting.
Haunting the very halls
erected to protect me.

With age comes perspective
and mine is defective;
but when I stop and reflect,
I find it perfect,
just in other ways.
It’s the puzzle, I’m the pieces
but all these bends and these creases,
don’t know what relief is,
don’t know what peace is.
Cause this mind never sleeps
and these dreams?
Never cease.
The fearful unknown; I’m surrounded alone.
This multi-tasking mentality masking
a restless cascade amassing,
grasping at straws and reality
and all the while asking:
Who are you?
Who are you?

By Devin Ott
July 19th/ 2017

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