• Dreams don’t come so often for me lately.  So this poem isn’t from a dream but rather from me realizing I was sitting in a quiet house staring off into space.  I decided to give my emotional brain a moment to speak.  Don’t blame me it said… you are the one that feeds me.


Mixing colors

Purple into black

Feeding the frenzy

Swirling backwards

Down the drain

Blaming sanity

For the rainstorms

And insanity

For the rainbows

Mixing turmoil

Black into blood

Feeding the terror

At a standoff

Like an ornament

Finding purchase

In my brain


A.R. at
Bill at
Cyn at
David at
Dean at
Echo at
Erica at
Jessie at
Jesska at
Julie at
Matt at
Namy at
Nessa at
Owen at
Paula at
Ra at
Revis at
Robert at
Shree at
Symanntha at
Sahara at
Renee at
Kay at
Kim at
Lillian at
Liz at
Lori at
Julia at
Gwenlynn at
Breanna at
Carolyn at
Barbara at

4 thoughts on “DON’T BLAME ME

  1. Purple is my favourite colour but mixed with black it could come across as quite harrowing (or stylish depending on your wardrobe choice). I like the notion of ornaments finding purchase in your brain, if anything would stand out and take notice there it would be an object like a fascinating ornament or trinket that has some kind of detailed past history/backstory attached to it. But then I think is it a scary ornament and that would then give me chills. Another poem that gives much food for thought at trying to understand our brains when they are churning and spinning things around over a kind, sensitive and deeply emotional core.

    Liked by 1 person

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