Racing Voices Poem by Matthew Foor

Internal tension
An abomination
To the way things should be
Givin accomodation
Expecting acclamation
Highest accreditation, it does recieve

All efforts bound
Consciousness turned battleground
War drenches the foreground
Needing a bloodhound
For those that need found

Pickin my brain
Hopes to ascertain
What erodes my mind
Like acid rain

Thouts that race
Common place
Hold on and brace
As they pick up pace