i seek solace often, in remembrance. remembering what has happened what i had hoped to happen-hope will happen or wish had never been. i have my thoughts a warm safe haven a fetal refuge a pitiful escape. i am indulgent in my defense against fabrications- mutations of incomprehensible paranoia persistent the involuntary beating of an indifferent heart unrelenting dogged devotion to an organic rhythm a wayward internal clock tuned to an unquestioned desire, measuring pace the rate at which lines carve shapes on my aging face. see, i was born scarred from battle, poor in spirit and afraid. afraid to love live die cowardice a convenient religion and a cage. should i now trust? put  my limp limbs in unseen hands allow our spheres of light to touch to mingle, to muddy, to clash? actions- louder than words but the finality of their volume stuns me maybe i seek safety in uncertainty find calm in chaos shirking responsibility. i am still an infant slack jawed with novelty yearning for a life of blissful naivete but unable to close these two eyes that see with precision and clarifying objectivity all of the lines that converge in space the point neither horizon bound nor tethered to fate. to point with this finger of muscle and sinew extending  out in the sphere of this turbulent view this parade of images that slides before me, ill keep looking on the whole span of my eternity.

i seek solace often,
in remembrance.
remembering
what has happened
what i had hoped to happen-hope will happen
or wish had never been.
i have my thoughts
a warm safe haven
a fetal refuge
a pitiful escape.
i am indulgent in my defense
against fabrications- mutations of incomprehensible paranoia
persistent
the involuntary beating of an indifferent heart
unrelenting
dogged devotion to an organic rhythm
a wayward internal clock
tuned to an unquestioned desire,
measuring
pace
the rate at which lines carve shapes on my aging face.
see, i was born scarred from battle, poor in spirit and afraid.
afraid to love
live
die
cowardice a convenient religion and a cage.
should i now trust?
put my limp limbs in unseen hands
allow our spheres of light to touch
to mingle, to muddy, to clash?
actions- louder than words
but the finality of their volume stuns me
maybe i seek safety in uncertainty
find calm in chaos
shirking responsibility.
i am still an infant slack jawed with novelty
yearning for a life of blissful naivete
but unable to close these two eyes
that see
with precision and clarifying objectivity
all of the lines
that converge in space
the point neither horizon bound nor tethered to fate.
to point with this finger of muscle and sinew
extending out in the sphere of this turbulent view
this parade of images that slides before me,
ill keep looking on the whole span of my eternity.