Just another poem I’d written thus far. Enjoy!!!
my head spun in paranoias,
predicting doom and gloom, untold phobias.
Aye, …got not one prediction,
but chapters had been written in the night,
woven details spun into paranoid imagination,
predicting there be yet a darkest night.
Aye, …did not have a deja vu,
yet, feeling inside groped the sleepless path,
untold phobic predictions in a deja who,
aye, …was much sane as a darkest knight to be had.
Who would ride into the darkest night,
knowing there would not be a sunrise,
yet, giddy-up and on with the ride,
senselessly, groping for hope in sleepless night.
There wasn’t a map to chart the courses,
yet I felt the future had already been told,
on the delusional steed I rode through gorges,
meeting up with my deja foe.