Walk on Fear


Walk on Fear



It appears in the grip

of ecstasy, in the

idiot abstract of failure,

and sometimes, love.


Illusions coating

the sides of eternity

with shrieks, illusions

crawling out of the mouths of


of gods and myths. Trains

pass all night through offices,

apartments, trains packed


tight with a cargo of dreams.

No one is strong enough to say goodbye

to the world, shave their heads

without feeling. No one is here


to shout spontaneous, to endure

the striving tongue and bone. Electrical

flies on the wall. Cockroaches scanning

the fridge – oxygen, dancing couples,


standing naked

before a window, skyscrapers

stretched towards

a crippled sky, and then


long ago, a child

sitting in a forest,


to each tree.


Lately, it is has been hard

to hide – undressed,

divorced from direction.


Lately, I’ve been watching

the furniture, screaming

aloud when there’s a knock

on the door.


But my house is forever.

And the urgency and hunger

that overpower my pulse

has never cried for peace.



Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst




Published in “Synchronized Chaos” June 2018






Published in “New Mystics” July 2018





You can listen to the poem by clicking below:





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