I hold the keys,
the door is shut;
moving my eyes
see through what I am not,
I was born to keep the darkness at bay
or greet it
when it comes– however it comes…
I was not born with the power;
useless as it may be
but with only one slip,
I can ruin humanity
with my fingers,
or show it what it can be.
(not made for this.
not made for this!)
to grow however I might
and breathe whatever I choose to breathe
but nothing more!
collect figures of speech
and use them on people who’s presence
I can feel inside my skin;
on the pores I do not see,
on the warmth I often forget,
beyond my flesh, blood, beyond my brain…
on the galaxies that start where my consciousness dies
and die where my being is born to give birth to what my consciousness
is the place I call mine,
a home to be, live, grow…
become and feel what I otherwise would not have felt
for I am constantly getting lost on the needs of flesh,
on the needs of rational mind– irrational as it might get.
I am accepting, finally:
all my needs are egoistical
my struggles false
my memories tainted by the curse that every poet however lame it is– gets
my being tainted by what I chose to believe
and this form… this form… this form is nothing more than what I choose to see.
but I love! – even like this.
in my small egoistical world
not as different as everyone else
but not the same.
so if I choose to paint you,
I won’t photograph you!
I’ll photograph the trail that the shadows of your atoms leave as you paint.