WITHERED BUT WALKING

walking up on a distant

but relative memory of times that

shaped the way I think and

feeling things when eyes do lock does

not mean brotherhood is what’s taking place

I need space from all this

pyroclastic hate and faces that amaze me

with their anguish and desperation

to write this off as commonplace and not

a condition of my prescription is beyond

recognition or redemption I cannot make

amends to these people who follow me

shadows cast wide like night creeps

to dawn an overblown sunrise speaks

of rebirth but not for them but me

I need time to rewind the clock to before

the pain suck in and damage scored my for

ahead of the pack around the corner

I’m trying to make my fortune out of

words in crooked order

but I need the one and shun the other

homespun misery where I miss the she

and despise the he and above all

I hate ME

Picture 011

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