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Tumbling

  • Writer: Chris Worley
    Chris Worley
  • Dec 1, 2025
  • 1 min read


Words, thought but never said

Deeds retracted, redacted left for dead

Unsaid, undone missed connections reverberating in my head

Dreams, desires trapped, flailing

Seeking life then aborted, death’s siren wailing

 

Hopes of more - to climb, to soar, to be the best

Now lost, not even deaf ears to pass the test

 

But from my heart these lusts did flow

Only to be burdened by what I know

And that, my friend,

Is a thing that has no end

 

Affirmed by self-coronated genius

Sustaining me through doubt and humility

Know all, be all, I great seer

My destiny, figment-created always near

Never clear

 

I slander, slay and pervert reason

Manipulate to fit my current season

But, I need more counsel to remove all doubt

To be certain what this is all about

So I call in my dear, dear friend confusion

To confirm the truth of my illusion

 

STOP, listen, not to the crazed genius-head

But to the heart that now seems dead

To the soul lost in self-destruction

Of sacrosanct reasoning carefully constructed

 

Can the haze be cleared, the foundation restored

Where is the real that was me before this mental storm

My head, my heart, my soul in raging conflict

Tearing at my eyes like a psychoderelict

 

Finally the flash bulb pops

Exploding my intricately mangled props

Exposing the ruse that was a thought

Much more than a passing cyclone was not

 

Steadied now I am

Thoughts and words congeal like honey jam

My eyes wide open mouth more so

Return to the masses I go

 

 
 
 

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