Inner Face Poem by Kevin Maroney

Drip drip, from ceilings tall,
tumble to the floor.
Dip dip, thy hand unto the earth,
stones on the horror.
Left to own devices mind to fray,
and in the darkness back to flay.

To death, like a lover do I turn to thee,
for shelter from the senses.
To health, like a devil cursed be,
for without hope, not an end in sight there lie.

Cursed be thy light, that without it I be blind,
Consigned to the night, my sanity never to find.

Deep in the bowels of some dark-infested place,
can one find one's own, true, inner face.