The Wanderer

-Audio Player-

I spend
a lot of time

searching

for the words
I’ve not yet written.

There are
my footsteps

of a thousand miles

mapping
the empty lines

on the surface
of my notebook.

I wait there,

like a stranger
waits by a lighthouse

for a lover’s ship

to find home
from sea.

Patiently,

I descend

to madness…

I witness
a forming corridor

where I meet
my Ink

before

and after

his own birth.

His energy

chaotic
yet calm

haunting
yet handsome

ancient
yet also new,

timeless…

The walls

are cloaked

in darkness

where fear
and doubt
fester
in uneasy blood,

flowing
like a river

through
trapped
time

eternal…

Alone,
I stand,

a wanderer

a witness

a stranger

and a prince

unshielded
from the weather
of my fractured mind.

Hallways
of open doors

spill torrents
of untamed
traumas,

whose violence

cuts my cheek

like a snowstorm
of shattered glass.

My sanity
dissolves
into alphabet soup.

My senses
dull
to the biting cold.

My hope
crawls out
from shadows

clinging to my fingertips

longing
to be painted
into beautiful truths.

I find my feet.

I do not fight the tears

I let my heart pound

and my breath run wild.

I search
for the pieces
of myself

buried
so deeply

within
this chamber of time…

the playground
where I left
the first
love of my life

the death
of the friend
I lost in the night

the betrayal
of the man
that I called
my brother

and the loss
of a woman
that I called
my lover

30 years
of memories

I know too well
yet not enough.

But my fear is real…

That the madness
might grip my soul

and crumble me

like the ten-page
love letter

I never sent
my high school sweet heart.

That the doubt

might embrace me,

like a black serpent
squeezing so tightly

until I
am broken

and reborn
empty

with eyes black

lost,

in forgetful bliss…

To live

in this journal

is
to journey

to the honesty

hidden,

within the cracks
of the bathroom mirror.

Because,

only with that honesty

might I find the strength

to turn
loss
into love

and sorrow
into sunlight

and only
with love’s light

can I ever hope

to uncover
the beautiful worlds

of my mind.

Follow John Onyx on Social Media

If you’d like to buy me a coffee (which is always really nice), you can click that funky orange button in the corner. Thank you!

Published by John Onyx

A poet of the lost, the found, and the in-between. I’m interested in collaborating with photographers, musicians, and videographers on larger projects. Feel free to email me at me@johnonyx.com if interested!

%d bloggers like this: