all paths lead to nowhere,
nowhere to hide,
nothing but the sprawling,
unnerving reality of time

it slips, silently, through the fingers
all moments, having passed,
unify and become one:
"the past"

SANGRE


walls within which i remember
onward forward, behind dawn
of which description eludes me
a first breath i don’t recall

rooms from then, distorted now
the fish eye lens was table tall
convex surface assimilates
i soak it in, engrossed in all

each and every vein of mine,
fueled and stoked, the patterns lined
new formed flesh, still unweaned
memories then, mistook as dreams

a room is set, the set´s a scene,
i witness then, unknowingly
the very fabric of my being
learned it then, and learned by seeing

fragments come, they hurry so
the actors speak in spoken code
nothings clean, it's all a mess
memories mix, froth & coalesce

memory? more like (i guess)
retrace the steps, revert, regress
in these rooms, to point and map
this was here and that was that

onward, forward, front to back
the space between my ears- a trap
the senses flare, they reenact
the murky water, the muddy past

to reach the end of the fog at last
strangers turn in blurry masks
to everything i became attached
perhaps a hand loosened its grasp...

a chain of mine, oh these veins of mine
two points in space meet and intertwine
three points in space becomes a spine
a crooked tree is what you get with nine

my body then, in the bath year ninth
to the future, then, bliss-fully blind
defined already, by fading time
on a spiral path, set to unwind

the circles i run in, and how to suffer
understanding myself- attempting with others
center, mine own, came from some other
i grew up and out from under you,- mother

witness me, as i unfold,
an open wound, come behold,
the rooms all speak the story told
my flesh of flesh is all exposed

the ego tears in shards of glass,
i clench the fist, i grab and grasp
the days they flew, everything's past
i didn’t notice, they hurried fast

blood that drips, it drips deep red
patterns learned, behavior spread
to run in circles, to point and gasp
“i” am this and “i” am that

the eye in my forehead is insight ahead
i be the tip of a very long thread,
white roots of this tree, deep under spread
i be the fruit, i am the blood that it bled