A dark poem of uncertainty, taunting, and scanning, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
March 4, 2004Early Notebooks
A primal circle of uncertainty, taunting, scanning,
I can’t breathe, can’t be real—side effects demanding.
Not caring, as I tell myself I don’t care,
reaching out, reaching in, gasping for air.
Wondering what dreams linger behind your eyes,
where shadows dance, where secrets arise.
I’m stuck, unable to move, caught in your spell—
but I don’t mind, as long as we dwell.
Grasping for something, a hand to hold,
crabs and ghouls in the stories you’ve told.
You say you want a change, a move to make—
but the distance is small, for both our sakes.
Say you want to be here, say it’s not pretend,
I just want to be your one, your beginning and end.
Caught in this circle where uncertainty spins,
I reach for you, my love, where it all begins.
Reader response
Did this piece stay with you?
28 reader responses
Stayed with me28
Needs work0
Tap one signal for Primal Circle. It records a page-level response without asking for email or account details, and helps prioritize future revisions without interrupting the reading flow.
Choose one option to save feedback.
Discussion
Discussion about this...
Comment on Primal Circle. Your email is used to send a verification link and is not shown publicly. Comments may appear after verification and review.
No published comments yet.