Obssession Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

He is every man
I see,
yet not quite he.
A shadows face,
grace of perfection,
absolution never given.

My toil,
running, riot mind
of mad turmoil.
Boiling chemistry
of sickness,
quickness of grasping thought,
sought drug of peace.

Thief of my sanity,
lovers hell.
Unwell in rejection,
eternity's selection.
Low cast, out cast.
Can't last, too fast my head.
Obsessional outburst.
Unconsummated thirst.



Waf