innertia

1/21/2019

Welcome to the realm of spinning

Always searching, never winning

Cycles, circles, round trip flights

On blood wolf nights

A heathen’s plight

Beneath the fog our skin was shedding

And though obscured, our blood was letting

Through a window, along this wall

Into a hall

Like tears did fall

The spinning now is in my chest

It feels more like a sour vest

And though I’m grateful for this sense

It’s too intense

Its mist too dense

This lighthouse may not bring me back to rest.