Adrift in His Visions


I knew I had the opportunity to be like him…willing to sink others so I could swim

When adrift in the vision would become static and differed

There stood feelings of shaken roots and birch trees twisted and stirred

Soon all became dusted with rust and more and more obscured

Being safe among and within four walls left me hanging on ragged noose

complicit but loose

Beating back indifference by way of my own blood

Compiling foundations of steady mistrust on top of ‘what is love’

I know I am different from him

I have walked the needled path daily with one leg falling behind

Alert to the triggers of his vanity weaving in and out of my mind

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