Dead Stare – a poem

Let me explain this poem – a friend recommended my next novel might be about mental health issues that have bloomed from the pandemic’s impact and the significant spike in domestic violence and abuse.

I noticed this photo from a software I use for a variety of reasons. It’s a subtle photo, but if you examine it closely you’ll note the woman’s unfocused gaze.

I’ve seen the same gaze staring back at me in the mirror.

PTSD and a raft of other mental issues will emerge once this current mess gets managed.

I attempted to capture what’s going on behind her eyeball.

Simply stated, I pray for peace and understanding.

Dead Stare – a poem

Self-quarantined into an eternity,

My walls are creeping closer and closer,

Day-by-day, day-by-day,

A ticking clock’s seconds crawling down my spine,

Slivering into a pool of memories trapped inside my head,

But all I see is an outside world that’s dead,

So, I stare at nothing but dread,

A feature film displays a violent picture show that only I can see,

A video on a continuous loop behind my eyes as if I’m lost at sea,

Flash frozen in my time, slap to my face, the sting, my body disgraced, 

Powerless on my back, 

My legs dangling in space,

But all I see is an outside world that’s dead, 

So, I stare at nothing but dread,

I numb my body into oblivion to make it feel like dead pencil lead,

As I go drowning my consciousness inside my head,

My lucid thoughts wandering away with my best friend, regret,

If only I had made a better decision, instead,

I think I’m still alive, but my sanity is drifting away with the dead,

And all I see is an outside world that’s dead,

So, I stare at nothing but dread.

NS