Cringing In The Chaos Of Contemplation Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Imprisoned.
Captured.
Nowhere to hide.

Lonely, creeping dangerously close to sanity.
Imprisoned in my death like a dirty sheet.
Stranded and abandoned in the solitaire of life.

Why do we sit here and hurt each other?
Why stand in dirt and speak of mud?

Impostors slandering their good names with faeces.
Dribbling lunatics on edge, mimicking normality.

Let me dive into the water.
Let the water cleanse me.

I wait there.
I cringe.

Vampires of dying myths float with self.
Helpless in the skin, helpless in the mind.

Wounded chaos dripping in exclusionary
streets of pretense and disillusionment.

I see into myself.
Marooned in a chalking of deceit.

You lied to me, I lied to you.
Everybody lies and denies.
We are collected together in
the aquarium of our silence.

I sleep.
I awake.

I open and close my eyes in the screaming
stupidity of hoping to wake up tomorrow.