My Every Move

free verse


A gray that consumes me –

A breaking, a snapping, no cracking, no sound –

Pressure within, a boiling point with no spill-over –

A rust on the inside that sheds like a tear –

A burning sensation that has lasted a year. . .


I can’t feel much, but it’s all overwhelming.

It’s less like a swimming and more like a drowning.

Why did I leave? Why did I leave?

Over and over again, I keep asking,

And it’s less like a scream.


Whispers of hatred fill this space.

And all I can do is sit here in silence.

I sweat. I fear. I don’t know why.

I have a sneaking suspicion the Enemy is here,

But that’s it; that’s all. It’s all I can say. . .


If I said anymore, my muscles would ache.

So, I sit. I wait.

And I wait. . .

My mouth may not be moving, but I’ve

Had this conversation ten times.

If I opened my mouth, it’d sound like a whine.


I run. I flee. I can’t get away.

I drink. I smoke. I wear a frown.

But once I get out, I’m still in shell-shock.

Don’t hope. Don’t dream. Don’t trust in a lock.

Maybe someday you’ll see –


Maybe you’ll see why my shoulders slump.

You’ll probably understand why I step away.

You might get why I’ve stopped –

I’ve stopped everything, and yet I don’t drop.

It’s because they’re watching my every move.


free verse

Sun shines through the spring leaves,

Landing on a damp slab of concrete.

The remnant of a cigarette butt

Falls to that same gray slab.


And the ash burns.

The smoke flies, blown by the wind

Of the self-focused passersby.


Meaningless, utterly meaningless

Is the life of fearful expectation –

A man who outrages the Spirit of grace.