Time and newness, as of late, want to collide.
Casting shadows upon all that I find.
There is no absolute.
Of this, I am sure.
Yet, into every blind driveway, I stumble looking for a cure.
Respite never lay ahead.
It is only the illusion of a detour.
Depicting itself, as a shackle from head to toe.
Beautiful as a, forbidden path in which I dare not go.
Or, a stranger’s strong iron step…taken with ease.
Distracting with the carefree, chatter among the trees.
I can convince myself of the silliness that is provoked.
Antagonized by fragmented sentences that appear to have little meaning.
Lapsed and lulled,
My body becomes part of the deception…every time.
I play along.
Becoming insistent that my frame…disabled…is only physical.
Intact remains my mind.
I gaze upward.
Toward the elusive static that are the fingers of torment.
Arrogant are the attempts to see the obscurities for what…they are.
Nothing but mere intensely formidable, live-in scars.
I am nothing but the wick to the flame…burning ever so bright.
Eternally adjusting the delicate balance.
That is my willingness to fight.
Pain in the far away awakens, early.
Awakens me blurry.
Reconfigured steps become cryptic shapes of travels.
Journeys from another life.
I make myself,
as tall as, can be.
With desperation escorting me.
I wish no sympathy before the yield.
That is no part of the big plan.
Anguish becomes anger.
Anger becomes anguish.
A bond that is sealed…
With a shaded kiss.
Eccentric and silent.
Impasse its tepid talent.
When the unassuming mayhem washes over me.
I am aghast at the deliverance.
How quick pain floods transference.
how militant thoughts become the solid ground…
The only point of resistance.