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Holding on to images
pretending I can go on
daily
pretending.
Like holding on to
safety
I do not own,
to security only
a warm chest can hold,
praying it’ll
perfect my
hallucinations into a
destiny revealed.
My desires precede
my passion to heal.
Commemorating nostalgia,
a rising sun,
a new day has proven
it’s power to sustain
it’s routine.
Broken silence
reveals its’ right to scream
mercilessly it scratches,
unwinds, twists, pains,
never subsiding.
I stand alone in
the naked desert,
ready to breathe in
the air, to heal with
the sun, to soak my
feet in their fateful
place. I live
Anew.
Dec.2, 2005
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"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding" Khalil Gibran, The Prophet
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Escaped Face
