NUMB – Glen Hartle

In solitude,
I cast my senses broadly,
trying to break free
of the disquiet which has
me continually
revisiting the room with the mirror
only to find a normalized
self staring back.

Vaguely aware
of a budding faith
melding with the
one already seated deep within
my established and
yet neglected soul,
I am now fearful that
sunset will catch me unawares.

And so I hold my breath … stopping time.

Senses alight
on a distant thumping
heralding an awareness
until the beat
finds pace with my heart,
bringing me
to an emotionless exhale
as opacity fades

and leaving my pulse
a firmly planted
earworm of disquiet
even as I endeavour
to now sever the casted line
and return to solitude,
for the clarity of the moment
is too imminent.