Cells

Cells, all of them, rallying
together to form this specific,
rapacious acquaintance—a grizzly
Great Gazoo, not in green,
in fiery red—a tormentor
of sorts, a reminder that
eats away at the cancerous
connections made out of
monophobia, leaving a cavernous
emptiness and no one else to
turn to. It's not the worst
of things, but it's bloody
scary at times to be left
alone with it, with a force
both inside and outside one's
self deciding—regardless of
the soundness of certain
judgement calls—who can
be trusted and who cannot.


 

Originally written April 15th, 2015.

©Copyright Harrison Gorman 2015All Rights Reserved.