i gaze up at the sky,
to see who I am.

i sit in stillness,
to discover who I am.

i stand before the mirror,
to confront who I am.

when time stands still,
the world blurs,
my heart-mind asks,
"who am I?
why am I here?"

Echoes of the past,
kept as pets in a starving box.
Glued together wholly,
no room for novel space.
A spider’s string stuck to my back,
each step forward
the weight of a monstrous myth;
The corpse of time, dragging itself forward.

Luminous space infiltrated by jested thoughts,
its rebellious attitude only cuts deeper.
The enemy of my thoughts -
who am I to fight?
The I, a mysterious letter; a single stroke
Yet with such might beneath the ink
Lies refuge from the one who questions:

who dares return to the poisoned well?
why am I to pay
for the sins of an innocent child?
why am I burdened
to unwind the ties of a knotted self?

My life’s purpose decorates a fated room,
A refuge for those who must forget.
Let the past’s echoes stay buried—
silence the instrument, and hear.
A pleasurable pain I ache to claim at once.

Be a snake who sheds its cancerous skin,
or the corpse of the soldier who fought:
Nevertheless,
let pain not be in vain.

You tear me down, and I pretend that its ok…
The weight of your words distaining my soul,
like a Marxist sewing sorrow…
The thoughts of this pain…  tomorrow will they wain?
Its funny how the sorrow has a certain comedy about tomorrow…
Will it be better?
We waiver to ourselves, all the while we put our boundaries on the shelves…
I long for love, and one that’s unconditional…
but concealed is the stupid, for true love must be merely fictional…
By the mere fraction of dissatisfaction and let the folly fly!
Because I know, for I am a guy, so my feelings matter not…
So let the hatred soppers sop, like the lunch rush at your deli shop!
Let the fighting rue the day!
Send that hatred straight my way!
While I shelve another boundary hoping tomorrow will be ok…