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By Kirk Date: 2020 Dec 16 Comment on this Work [[2020.12.16.21.13.6224]] |
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(this is a poem which like the old joke goes may just mean that the lines end before the sentences do) you've been dealt a bad hand; born with a brain so desperate to keep you safe to ward you away from a world full of dangers that it overshoots; a barrage of warning flares that sets the landscape on fire (even a lovely garden of career one you bought seed and supplies for and worked and worked tilled soil sowed seed dirt under fingernails - those fucking fear flares burnt that too) and one day (back with the fires tamped down) we found each other but, what am i? sometimes a lonely guy to be around sunday school taught me the view from God's throne - (the unreachable vantage point that persists even if there's no butt in that chair) and the only feeling that matters is to keep any other feeling in line aligned my own fear fire was laced with brimstone and even now i can't can't can't be willfully responsible for letting situations go wrong (that brings damnation eternal and hot and unmakes me) so i live in responsibility and I love in admiration both proceeding from the outside in - but what if love needs be the inside out when we found each other i loved your laugh and your love ...and i'd help you play that hand you were dealt now i'm haunted that maybe I was just another bad draw (there is no end here this space left intentionally blank for us to write what comes next) |