I often forget who I am
        or at least who I’d like to be
I often can’t see straight
        and figments of symbols become me
I feel the night’s baroque intention,
        I lay wasted in the kitchen
           Asking the gods for forgiveness

On warm days I’m a traveler
        betrothed to the road of existence
Leather-tramping for purpose with
        Time as my mistress
She allows me passage into the night,
        and all she requires is patience

I manage a smile during this trial by fire,
        ashes blacken my palms with a vengeance
Soot covered eyelashes flicker
        faster than the flame that birthed them
And when I’m finally judged as guilty,
        I won’t be surprised
   I knew this moment was coming.