Walking past
All The people crossing
The path.

A face in the crowd,
Mimics one
I’ve known before.

A shadow
That I once committed
Histories with.

Yet I have
No idea
Who you are.

The past is a taunter, laughing into my back,
And it beckons me wary, to fear
That causes me to be empty and lack,
I don’t know how to respond or what to tell you future,
Things always seem possible from one angle, and shift
Too quickly to reassure,
And spaces between the lines
Are so hard to translate sometimes,
That I guard too cautiously and don’t know how to reply, or how to feel,
How to listen or what to say,
My trail is a confusing way,
A paradox that folds this and there every day.

The past is a taunter, laughing deeply,
Making me think harder than necessary,
Perplexing my mood, and confusing my thoughts,
Changing my mind, and doubting my oughts,
Many things from its laugh it has taught,
It’s the shape of my life, formed into stone,
Never to be altered, it’s made me as I am alone,
And who I am, is lost.

Lost for words,
Lost for thoughts,
Lost for time,
Lost for love,
Lost for hope,
Lost, for no place to go,
Lost, for I don’t know the way,
Lost, for a desire to be found,
Lost, for you to find me,
Lost for you to teach and show me,
Lost for you
For all of you,
Everyone.

Will you discover me?
Probably never;
My past is laughing, hear it,
Then you’ll know.

It’s the motif of my life to dream things that other don’t dream,
So while I was dreaming of you, you weren’t dreaming of me,
And I walked through a hazy field, until the cool moon broke the horizon,
And the glorious clouds began to swell and bellow until they sang,
That as you spoke those words of yours were soothing sweet rain.

I let the drops fall to parade about my mind,
They washed my weariness and spoke of the refined,
But rain may not always be tame, and so joyous,
Too much can be alarming and ominous,
The nascent of floods that drown air in lungs
Or causes the sprout of a little seed I buried deep,
From a past that I don’t want to repeat.

So that as I lingered through these rain drops
In this large outstretched field; the seed’s buds vegetated
Into glorious trees stretching out, so at their sight my foot stops;
And clustering their branches they yielded a lustrous fruit,
The mere sight quivered my tongue in desire to make them sweat their juice,
But though it may be glorious such fruit has potential to offend;
I’d eaten it before; though scrumptious, with its effects
Now I feared to taste it once more,
Yet it now grew before me yet again.

My heart’s beats rang an alarm bell as I swallowed my inducing saliva,
That quickly I began to pluck them from where they grew,
So all were hastily pulled, as though their sight would be as eyeing Godiva,
And behind my back (to cease their being at my front) I threw,
Turning to leave -- there they all exhibit, elegantly displayed,
All neatly piled before me where they were accidently reaped,
In fear I grabbed them for their destruction and I started to run
Searching for a ravine, to dump this tempter that I heaped.

The sweet smell illuminated, I looked at the lovely red orbs,
I pulled one out, and rain drops continued to pour,
The more rain that fell, the more I would adore,
The fruit beckoned a bite, a small bit to absorb;
Always the rain continued to pour.

The rain led me on, so I thought it could be,
So I took a bite of the fruit that it made me see,
The taste was all but what I see in a dream’s eye,
For in a dream is all where the glory of such tastes lie.

This revelation struck me hard with that first small bite
The thunder clapped before me with a flashing bright,
I slipped in the mud, all the fruit upon my back rotting
Fell to the ground, splattered, dripping, melting in despair,
I dared to dream of you with that bite right there,
But it’s the motif of my life to dream of things that others don’t dream,
So, when I was dreaming of you, you weren’t dreaming of me.

I’m running, I’m running, and I just don’t stop,
I’m running to be me, to be alone, in the solitude of myself,
I want no friends no help and no aid
So I’m running, I’m running,
I’m running naked by the street.

I’m naked, I’m naked, for all can see
My life is revealed, and it’s a horror
I’m revealed.
Sun burning bright, there be no hiding
While light keeps me in sight.

The cars screech past to glimpse
For a moment
Then to judge, never stopping to ask
Or wonder why

I hide in a shack at the intersection,
But my friends of the past were all waiting
So I ran to find freedom, to just be me
Alone, by myself, simply let me be
I want no friends, I want no company.
I’m running, I’m running, till the government catches,
They arrest, I say I want to be alone, to be only me;
They respond, no, you will be who we make you to be
I’m naked
They know all about me.

Through their halls, they lead me through
I’m naked, all that pass see me
Let me be, I want no company;
Three girls crying, three girls crying,
I hide behind my predator to shield my shame,
As my nakedness, my captivity, is all my blame;
I greet the one I know
But tears keep her words below,
Three girls crying, behind their blankets
They try to hide their sorrows,
The three girls crying, the three girls crying.

Trapped in a chair, I’m naked, I’m naked,
Thespians wandering in, playing with fire as waves,
Throwing and tumbling and twirling flames
Entrancing the congregation that they form me with,
I’m naked, all can see me, I want to run to hide
I want no friends, no company,
Someone let me go, to be me

Just be me
All
alone.

I fell down a rabbit's hole,
Knocking over cupboards and lamps,
Listening to crows screech of others success,
And landed within the deep pool of tears that Alice left.
I sink.
Beneath the water, serpentines of my energy diffused into my liquid prison.
A spider wiggled through my skin, to where I feared it to search,
And I struggled, trying to brush it before the worst could happen.
I hope I did.
I don’t want the worst to happen.
It did once; I’d show you the scar,
But I keep it well hid.

Fumbling forth frantically,
From the far off fort of the firmament,
Forever feeling its flustering frolic,
From far before fragmented futility flew,
Figments fetched from fascination,
Fears fall foul at this fatiloquist,
Figs fumble for flight,
From the fixation of the wind.

Heaving his howling hush,
Humming his hectic harmony,
Hems of haste heading home,
Humbles me as his host,
Helps with his honored honesty,
Holds high in this,
The hovering hood of the wind.

Shouting sheer shalom,
Shoves shadows, shielding me as a shroud,
Shivers stretch from the showering stratosphere,
Somber shoulders suddenly soar,
Shirt flutters, from the shreds of the wind.

If I hold my breath,
And count backwards from ten,
Will we live through his moment
Again and again and again,
Until there are so many agains
That it never ends,
I certainly hope so
As I’m at three, two, one,
I grab my next breath,
And it all begins again,
Ten, nine, eight,
Thank you fate.

I try one cheek to the pillow, then try the other cheek,
Nothing,
I try my front, then I try my back,
Nothing.
For the time being I have forgotten how to sleep,
Trapped in my head the fearless fright,
Of what’s been kept out of sight,
Waiting for the sunshine’s rays so bright,
In these dark hours of yet another sleepless night,
Waiting for the morning light,
In a pool of my warm sweat and burning tears,
Awaiting the confrontation with my fears,
Thinking of my life these past years,
I wait for the morning.
These are things, for which I feel sad,
But these are things, that do not make me mad,
For this choice is done, and is truly not bad,
I know I should feel glad,
And someday, I know I shall,
But for now I am waiting,
For the morning, that is not this morning.