' Talking 'to you…
beats walking the corridors
of my own misty mind;
each footstep an echo
cutting into silence…
like a single-note disturbance
that each seem to threaten
awakening of even more.
Fear arising then…
to creep alongside me,
attempting to summon
every sleeping monster-thought,
that I have tucked in.
So talking to you …
my dearest stranger-friend
is gold-dust and more;
it carpets my corridor