Balance upon the edge of a knife.
But when one way is failure and the other is strife,
Where is my victory meant to be assured?
Get the feeling i’ve been setup by a fraud.
So what are my options to escape alive?
Beyond today i still wish to thrive.
Ponder and pander.
Invent something of grandeur.
To siphon with quiet suggestion, aggression.
Razor blades dangle above the bed.
Swinging on their sinews they look adamant that soon they’ll be impaling.
Not an option to which I wish to succumb.
Give me something, even a crumb.
One way ticket from this trap.
Anything to stop me from falling flat.
Ponder and pander.
Invent something of grandeur.
To siphon with quiet suggestion, aggression.
With tensions that refuse to abate.
Within the chest venom does congregate.
Hate the burn and the thrill.
Both fill me with equal measures of chill.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 