Being That, Fortress.

Groping, the hands make air.
Eyes cannot calculate easily.
Path, a left and right trek.
In defiance of an attack, random.

Steps, wider in gaps.
Heavy breathing, sweats are
Excess of a secret strength.
The sarcasm to war.

Loads of pretty temptations.
I become a no flesh man.
Easy avoidance, half-divine.
The world is not my friend.




About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to Being That, Fortress.

  1. amoafowaa says:

    Wow! I sense pain, indecisiveness, loneliness, and sickness. Beautiful composition.

  2. amruta00487 says:

    Hi, your poems are really nice. There’s so much anguish.. But this one I liked so much..

  3. Caro says:

    I Liked the other piece as well but this one really stirs my mind as a person and a poet! Caro

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