I am a pawn on my own distraught
chessboard. The juxtaposed avenues of
landscape instill a craving for regression.
No desire to advance thanks to
the looming gift of sacrifice. Lateral steps are cherished,
nourished for too many seasons.
An austere spring is beginning to cascade and crumble
under the weight of the
intransigent summer. The board
begins to emit a cool sizzle
from its pores. Pawns relish
in their lack of duties but are
never graced with the option of lateral steps.
Stalked by the truer ivory pieces of enbalment,
pushed by their slave driving synapses
to chase the horizon for Bimini and longevity.