Papercut War Cries

Breathless, noiseless scream,

pierce the dreaming.

Charge the scene with masked monsters.


Language loses the power of description at that which defies reason.

Crept from a carpenter’s nightmare or mind’s unchecked horrors,

it lumbers into tightening hallways,

a constrictor subduing its prey,

then to vanish into the emerging light of morning,

biding time until the next episode airs in twilight’s playground.


An attempted embrace is a knife’s lunge for the heart.

Immobile faces, silent messages

cascade down a mountaintop to the jagged rocks at its base,

piling trauma on fathoms that stretch ever deeper into repressed dilemmas.

Childhood memories and discarded bumps and scrapes

form the walls of a widening maze.

Hug to the left side and end up where the beginning was.

Hug the right side and all turns equal a wrong.


A perpetual loop of paranoia spills out from an isolated spirit,

and the constrictor’s tightening coil unveils its guise as one’s own hand.

Mistrust the trust for all cards flip to reveal false.

Reality loses value when suspicious eyes blur out the numbers,

transforming hope and affection into a deal descending into the red.


Noiseless screaming can murder a fear for a night,

but it unravels in cosmos,

swallowing up star rays as a self-imposed black hole.


Searched in astronomy and the map is blank,

yet it cannot be denied a beast is loose in a personal galaxy.

Crossing over skies,

enveloping Triangulum,

logic cowers versus its opposite.


Roots run dry daily without the compass of time.

A dead season comes guaranteed.

Forgotten in turmoil is the fiction inherent in a weary head,

yet nothing matters with disease at the controls.


Push away an outstretched arm.

Relapse into redefined confines.

The lying world is said to stay outside,

but it’s never known if it wasn’t inside all along.

( ❤ Mitch)

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