STANZA VII
In this field of gray that i know reside in
Im still adjusting to the climate
Slightly pleasant
I hesitate to embrace enjoyment
Every muscle tensed
In anticipation
For the next set of hardships
My joyless masochistic subconscious hounds me
Even in my attempts to rest
A tsunami of paralysis fueled by anxiety attempts to take my breath
Perhaps i stare into the mirror with too critical of an eye
The criminal
Eternally perceived
As I
The freeing crop of perspective
Devoured by the locusts
Of my excessive internal locus
So i continue to consume negations
Perpetually in denial
Baptized in its reality defining waters
My first post baptismal inhale
The sweet air of self hatred
Caustic criticisms fementing in my soul to become a poisonous ale
And I’ll drink it every night
STANZA VIII
But now i know
I have to fight
With no sense of direction
Those self destructive habits must be left
So i can see what’s right
I NEED to perceive the light
Ive been shackled far too long in this dark cave
Finding my true identity has been a maze
The light may be blinding
And my new understandings may leave me in a daze
However when i adjust as i always do
And i can finally gaze
And Meet the real me
That will be
My greatest victory
Yes I attempted to smell the roses
But my hands
Were attacked by
A particularly prickly thorn
It cut my hand open
And paused my tour
STANZA VIIII
Now I realized how much
I missed
Those wonderful contours
The thorn must’ve been
Laced with regret and pain
The clarity i was enjoying
Gave way
To blurry visions
A promising whisper i heard
Maybe id hear the words
The ones that would put my heart at rest
The keys to unlocking my shackled treasure chest
Of love that id love to give
But a hallucination it proved to be
An unsurprising revelation
The resulting disappointment
Decreasing my elevation
Fleeting temptations
The urges that emerge
At the bottom of the emotional pit
Willing to do anything
But admit
That they
hold
A certain grip
A power they don’t deserve
A limit to the ways
That i can exist