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Wednesday, July 15, 2009


I'm smoldering.
Burning from the inside out--
Even my skin is hot.
I boil with irritation.

I have worked hard,
Fought to long
Sifting through the soil of my being
Discovering what I am not

So I can know what I am.
But it would take more than the pitiful scraping of my hands--
It would take an earth-mover
To change all my realities to make them suit me.

Every day I shove aside those thoughts that plague me,
The things that trouble me
But in my dreams, I cannot escape them.
I lie awake reflecting then--

My skin seems to crawl
I'm scalding.
The nagging in my mind,
An itch along my dermis.

You come to me for hope and inspiration
But I cannot always be that
Even saints are tried
And I am no saint.

I will not apologize
For the corners of my being
Where darkness still lurks--
The shadow drives my change.

My inspiration
Seems to spring
From a well of angst.
Only in the seperation of me from the other

Do I really know me--

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