On The Verge

On The Verge

I’m on the verge, I can tell; how?
         straight lines are a mess of scribble

the ordinary is frightful and unnatural
         the pounding beats louder, quicker

darkness thickens and chokes me
         voices boom with no clarity or comprehension

clanging, gnawing at my brain, rats
         rapacious in their extravagance

I feel them pushing me closer
         dragging me nearer to the

edge, that place, the vacuity where
         others have drowned in the mire

of iniquities too deep to ascend
         left in the lurch, flummoxed

with little resistance because
         I am on the verge