The Deer Is The Point.

Joyce.

I am characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtapositions.
A constantly changing scene composed of numerous elements.
Bizarre; Fantastic; Grotesque.
In my threshold of consciousness,
when I come upon my visions of half-sleep,
voices yell, and voices whisper,
they speak my name again and again.

Their disturbance is not invited,
and their presence is feared.

They may be benevolent or malicious.
Of the malicious type?
I can feel the tension as they stare
with intent that force silence and cowardliness.

It's happened to me,
it'll happen to you.
info

2009

Have you every felt closed off from the rest of the world?
Felt cold, or ….alone?
You talk, but no one seems to be listening.
You look ahead, but everything’s dark.
Uncared for, abandoned, told lies.
Is everything he/she said true?
Can they possibly be the truth?
Or have maliciousness and evil and wrong doers come about once more.

Should I wait?
Should I walk away, and leave those who now reach out to me,
but had once already left?

I’m confused,
I just want to go home.