horse shoes & hand grenades(syd)

after the fall
he threw the grenades
and the shrapnel
maybe scattered a bit beyond expectation.
and the horse shoes tossed
so close to the post,
missed
just enough to
to convince
everyone else but him
that the pit
was becomming too far to reach.


if, suddenly
the post, the throw
and that heavy pendulum
swinging,
barely in his grip,
became the only thing
to hold on too;
it becomes hard to let go.

winning the game
suddenly means less
than holding that last
thread connecting
life and perception.

and holding that last
horeseshoe
becomes the only
connection
with perception
of purpose.

and perception becomes
insanity
in the eyes of the
terminally sane

__________________
inside me I feel alone and unreal