I have lost something
sacred.
It is still alive out there,
in the infinity
of objects untenable
and unforgettable.
I thought
I heard it call my name
last night
as my eyelids finally found each other.
This absence knows me too well.
It won't let me
take my mind
off my mind.
If I could only measure
like my strength, then
I would know who
I really am;
and, I suppose, sleep
even less.
Alas, I've found
that
I can't wander
as easily as my mind.
I wish to float
away
from gravity
and other discussions just as grave.
How can I
keep my enemies
closer
than this?
A book once said
that
self-reproach is a
dangerous
thing.
I never read that book,
but
it surely read
me.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
I have lost something
sacred.
It is still alive out there,
in the infinity
of objects untenable
and unforgettable.
I thought
I heard it call my name
last night
as my eyelids finally found each other.
This absence knows me too well.
It won't let me
take my mind
off my mind.
If I could only measure
like my strength, then
I would know who
I really am;
and, I suppose, sleep
even less.
Alas, I've found
that
I can't wander
as easily as my mind.
I wish to float
away
from gravity
and other discussions just as grave.
How can I
keep my enemies
closer
than this?
A book once said
that
self-reproach is a
dangerous
thing.
I never read that book,
but
it surely read
me.