Nobody chooses obedience.
I once lived two stories
below the nearest window.
The statue of a child,
invisible and obliged.
I was once a soldier
in the guise of war
my heart a patina
of inscrutable remorse.
Love was complicit with torture,
a room with drawn curtains
and savage underground stars.
I never forgave my body
the fatality of innocence
nor my ego its mechanizations.
There was never any goodness in me
only a sinister need to perfect
my most trivial misgivings.
Despite my scars I am only broken.
I have all the ingredients
I’ll ever need to develop
but still I wait ripping
myself to pieces one
receipt at a time.
Once the sun was sharp and sweet
an orange, a phoenix revisiting
what time-in his infinite necessity-
felt fit to ravage and with each new age
I pass wordlessly through a fusillade of echoes.
I have so many prompts to catch up on. I must apologize for my negligence. I have obsessive tendencies and when I get fixated on something I find it very hard to shift gears. I eat, breath, sleep a thing. I am not finished with my project but hopefully I am at the point where I can come up for air. I am not entirely sure though!