Monday, October 24, 2016


I often wonder:
If confined is the right word.
If chaotic is the right feeling.
I taste the relentlessness of isolation.
I make the best of it with social media.
I cannot share the green.
I cannot compromise the vault of my infinite thoughts
The fields of space.
The theaters of time.
I hurt,
and I ache,
and I burn.
I immolate pieces of myself
And I have to--
In the tireless
I am spurred into compliance
& the rain falls in a myopic myst
Invisibly. In the shadows of reaching out to others
They see the obscure visage of a black claw reaching toward them and reel in fear.
I am the obscurity
of many moments
beyond the comprehension of self

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