Be Careful What You Wish For Poem by Paul Brookes

'I write, ' he said. 'poetry of the mind.'
me wondering aren't all poems of the mind but say nothing.
seeing my confusion he smiled.

'I go deep into the places others never go or fear to tread,
those interior spaces where madness lurks.'

Been there and really done that I think but it was chaos bearing the feint white scars still so deep;holding their white imprints.

her feral red eyes are those of the hunter, her teeth sharp
but I know the dark places those where no one else enters.
an arctic place of frozen souls and hearts, mind locked.
knowing the bleak horizons of hopeless days where the black dog hunts
and you its quarry flee.

there are, interiors I think, you do not need to go to,
for you may be caught by the claw if insanity and never return.'
I say and smile looking him straight in the eye.
he must have seen the wasteland of my soul because I saw fear his reflected back.