Bleeding out by self inflicted wounds

Innocent in inner self
Guilty as a breathing fish
I’ve come here below to be a bellows
And in abundance, fast.

These truths of me I deny
Though grounded, you see I fly

The Pail over my head has but one small hole
uncertainty waffles within 
The pall over my bed has but one escape route
Waiting for my feet to begin


8 thoughts on “Bleeding out by self inflicted wounds

  1. This is quite a precarious situation – being self-inflicted, these wounds can be so painful.
    I’ve realized lately that there is perhaps nothing wrong in denying certain truths. Hopefully, the feet would find their footing soon.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. To be such a well of contradictions! And the body that surrounds them. This is one witty and scary poem, Eric. I identify completely with the “one small hole” and the waffles. Such a brief span on this corporeal plane.

    Liked by 1 person

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