A Hazed Shell Poem by Adam Hollingsworth

My thoughts haze to here and there
Even a schizophrenic has his days
Although life’s not fair,
But why must my thought leave and not stay?

The amusement has lost it’s fun
Soon my days are numbered, than done
An empty shell is the emotional state
Glazed shadows move in and out of space

Slant the chances and the will might draw
Away by chance, but who’s to say what’s wrong
Or what’s right? Plant a seed, and
Swallow the fire that soon grows.
Neurotic and catatonic are the states
Of mind he’s in, drawing on
So he may choose and lose,
The hounding faces that cleared the slate.