murmurs on the lips,
ominous to the casual ears,
footsteps matching the breathless chant
of an inconspicuous phrase,
repeated over and over,
on the cusp of being forgotten
if not uttered every second.
wary eyes follow the one lost
to her own mind, in her own world
– world spelled out on pages
confined within four walls oddly shaped at angles,
no one except her to see yet;
written in a hurried hand,
urgent lest the words leave beforehand.
fevered, flushed cheeks,
eyes fleeting and struggling to focus,
fumbling footsteps trying not to trip,
trying to deliver person and brain in one piece,
brain which sees not people,
oblivious to all, obstacles labelled all;
and that one bloody phrase on the lips.
the moment it spills over the page,
page pressured with ink blots,
relief if still the same
– hair in hand if fragmented,
lost bits swimming in incoherent seas,
brain exhausted and shut down,
refusing to reboot, to reprieve the harried soul.
blasted woes to all obstacles
if the incantations went undelivered!