I write in the trance of triangular years
whose reverse-osmosis has done but clear
the last memories I held dear

and somewhere along the line of
perpendicular feelings, Love
found its nesting in my heart like a dove
seeking the shelter it was deprived of

because maths and science concretize
my malady. Brittle beings, they vaporize
like mist exhaled for exercise.

These faces I try to exorcise
are the only ones I recognize

Regarding entitlement
What is really true?
Look at the contract;
What are you entitled to?
Who told you what,
When and where,
And why should anyone
Besides yourself care?

What are the terms of
This entitlement scheme?
Are they exactly as
Precise as they seem?
What was promised
That you feel cheated?
Is there an inheritance
That has not been treated?

Are you an heir or else
A member of royalty
And thus deserve to
Have absolute loyalty?
Are there lands and deeds
You feel are owed you
Or is it just that you feel
Everyone is below you?

It would help you and us
If you could narrow this down.
Do you feel you own everything
And everyone in around?
Do you feel we should bend
And bow as you pass
And that maybe we should
Kiss your noble ***?

So sure
That my footing is right
Up one rung
To fall down a ton

The ladders much taller
Than id ever thought
And infinitely weaker
Up near the top

Down on the ground
In a pile of wood
In the place
Where the ladder once stood

Time now
To gather some nails
To rebuild the ladder
I thought would hold

The clouds are calling
I can feel their words
I look to them
And look back down

The time to rebuild
Is now

I am broken, bruised, scarred, and bleeding -- I do not deserve the love you give to me on a silver platter.