Head Full Of Wasps
A head full of wasps,
incessantly buzzing under my skin,
Each wasp a thought a feeling,
A notion eardrums filtered in.
My heads a boiling hive of wasps,
a honeycombed place of reaction.
Do I act on every impulse,
allow fabrications to gain false traction?
Do I put my faith in lies,
when all untruths be told?
Will I alienate my closest,
until I sit alone and old?
Or do I take up arms and fight,
standing fast against deceits I find,
or do I take up arms and fight,
the voices in my mind.
©Adam Lucy 2016
Written shortly after the mental break down of a close friend.