of the you
I'm rooted to the familiar ground.
A song pulls me toward the light,( something not right) bet it is
Is it
a deep, hollow space filled by steady presence.
Better this stillness,( fa sho)
self-imposed told self- “ more abuse por va vor “
But I ignored the the agony of
terror of becoming that ,the mirror for another's need ,bitch, damn,pardon me nah ,seeking
VA vor,
But the closer I creep, the louder the whisper starts,shhh,...... hear this ,
….dis
, insistent don't cause the quietness of the demand of polite suggestions
(Doesn't give an opinion which is great)
I'm just saying ,and that's I lie outta me so
The more real silence knows all ready and should,
Right. , in this left in my mind ,suggesting shall do so as I would ,would would say cause its FRESHHHhhh
Yah fresshhhhhhhh
Fear, i mean hear ,the gatekeeper,
raises its step fully in, what happens then
( crickets sound)
Will the structure hold? Will the foundation crack?
And the is not the hurricanes,
but the erasure that follows,
the self dissolving into the vastness blurred until there is no more 'I' left,
( yah whatever though))
only the relentless 'Us'
is a retreat, not a surrender
Recon in a strategic in
the deepest, safest of the self.
This is the we know best, isn't it?
No……an still the equally repulsion.
constant push,The eyes,
which saw the world too clearly,
begin to over ever not
of inward yah heard, ( yah would not ,
Listening right here) threatens the pull loose,
tugging it back into the safety of my own pocket.
the pilot in the spray.the hands,
once reaching,now clench into fists of
There is a signal given, silent,
Not shutting down all external ports.
The door bolted, not with wood,
but with a quiet, cold resolve.
My givzah tide rises,
too fast, too high,
a sudden sea within
The volume drops.
Music fades to a low
then nothing.
Laughter from the next room becomes a distant,
meaningless ,need these papers for conversation
Then suddenly back at it
The air inside grows thin, perhaps, for whomsoever ( I guess they say)
but it is air control. These climates
temperature, manageable.
Then the retreat. For another jacket
The aroma of the erb
a quick, inhalation of breath,
as if I’ve touched something burning.smell
( I'm trying not to)
Voicing me parked for the moment reading my skeptics
( crickets )
( this pondered another ring for the mind)
I pull the thread I just offered,
tugging it back into the safety of my own pocket.
Again
To feel everything is to risk being everything to someone else, why would I
to be a sponge soaking up the overflow of every passing cloud.
though the scar tissue underneath remains sensitive.
So I lean just enough to be tentative
shadow to voice Words unspoken
where only my own steady breath remains,
a small, reliable metronomecounting out the quiet hoursuntil the flood recedes,
and it might be safe,
Perhaps, tentatively open again.
a mirage,a garden I want to wander through,
of true know
1779
