Cliff Wise
Oct 25, 2020



Not a chicken egg thing

Still morbid sounds worse

From down here than up there

They swirl dive and peck

A murder of words

No need to try to

Conjure up a worse one

There one almost got me

A glancing blow but frightful

Gnats up there crows down here

Everything has just got

An edge on it lately

Meanings drift to earth

Fallen leaves of my vocabulary

Stale bread soon to mould

The angle of light low

Barely reflect off the walls

Of my earthen pit

Don’t be concerned my friends

I’m not down here in fact

Just thinking about it

In a fanciful way

Laughing at the devil while I can

I’ll get a thrashing from him

Soon enough today not

Looks like I’ve accepted it

In longer days there was fear

Now acceptance replaces resignation

I take another step away from

All those words and mutters

There a butterfly she flutters

Over and past my pit

I wonder if she noticed at all

They see red or is it orange

I’ve heard even on darker days

When the sun is reflecting

Off other things

In different places



Cliff Wise

Book series - Anxiety is not Depression ‘Bring Order to the Chaos’, ‘Daily Reader’, ‘Questions and Answers’. The view from the inside about these disorders.