horizontal

trapped by the dark
of this day
cold behind the eye
drives pain to work
at four thirty
waiting in the morning
feeling like a curse
not a cure
makes the mind
pace in circles
not back and forth
not a normal pace
too fast trapped
in the dark of the day
behind blinds
that become horizontal
bars but when does security
and protection become
paranoia and fear the throbbing
pain horizontal bars pounding
the inner eye
twisted words like those
on a glob of silly putty
or those in a cruel joke
only one took serious
maybe that's how the sword
pierced the eye
right through like a kabob
directions out of the fog
hanging daily morning over
the field before sunrise
wouldn't know it with all the clouds
trapped by the dark
of the day confined mind comfortable
on the horizontal cushion
confused by how many direction
the race becomes no point
running around in circles
with broken scissors...