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Steven M Lacey

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The hands of fantasy
by Steven M Lacey

Thursday, May 02, 2002

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Recent poems by Steven M Lacey
•  Little Jake
•  Some other idiot
•  The first good one that comes along
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           >> View all 17

I grace the human race
With my smouldering hate
They’re not looking at me
Calmly, calmly, body shaking
All too self aware
The scent of the dark
The dreary desolate
And the piercing heat

When the novelty of this love
Has lost its shine
I find that I’m
Confronted with myself
When these strong arms
Have worn to their bones
And the trust in me
Shaken to its rotten core

Oh one more look
Spiraling pity gaze
I’ll have to turn away
Oh but where is home?
It’s not you I’m afraid of
But how can I run away
From myself?

Haven’t slept for days
Hiding under the covers
But light shines right through
You’re living in a dream
I’m trying to wake
From this nightmare
Yet somehow we’re the same
Clasped in the hands of fantasy

Oh one more look
Spiraling pity gaze
I’ll have to turn away
Oh but where is home?
It’s not you I’m afraid of
But how can I run away
From myself?

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Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson 5/2/2002
maybe.....
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