This.
This my difficulty I can never show in public.
My shame.
My family name tarnished on a pause.
A stumble.
A fumble forwards towards the right answer that won't come tumbling out of me.
So I wait.
I wait for a crack in the seams; a break in the watch.
A moment to breathe where I can escape away from the responsibility of knowing.
Knowing what is to others obvious.
The poetry of integers,
the finger-tips of legacy I may never grasp.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
This.
This my difficulty I can never show in public.
My shame.
My family name tarnished on a pause.
A stumble.
A fumble forwards towards the right answer that won't come tumbling out of me.
So I wait.
I wait for a crack in the seams; a break in the watch.
A moment to breathe where I can escape away from the responsibility of knowing.
Knowing what is to others obvious.
The poetry of integers,
the finger-tips of legacy I may never grasp.
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