Her vision steeped before we crossed
but no more to ignite the eyes
losing track of what was behind, I didn’t bother.
I carried concern on my chest, no boulders on my shoulders.

I parlayed with my self, negotiating control.
A small taste of freedom beckoned,
to feel and smell and crave the fancies I fancied.
Natural impulse, artificial dissolution.

A leading discourse to
dry this saturating boredom  
with sponges more righteous than martyrs.
And burn these tears of impassive self pity
in the fires of a desert immolated.

A frozen face on my stone like heart.
Inequity realized and resolved.

Silence is a drug of the lazy and the wise
I am neither, but I despise them both
and too, the darkness with which speaks, my mind.
Slip into a corner, watch the echoes play.

lest luck has its day;
before I bite the cold earth for good;
I will see the martyr walk from the pyre
and witness myself burning with desire.