Compass

Lying Compass














Within the hour
my compass swivels
around and around
while i lay motionless,
audibly soundless.
I am deafened by
screeching lies
that batter my insides
into a churning slush.
Reality is relative.
Truth seems unkindly subjective.
True north bears no stability.
My emotions are a catalyst
to the speed of the spin.
Every moment is a game.
Fact or fiction?
Venom dances in my blood,
through my hands,
through my feet.
The delusions now
take the stage.
I carry this potent death
around with me.
Everyday, everywhere.
A curse of deadly predisposition.
This war is being fought inside of us,
not up or down.
Where He is means little.
Who He is matters most.