1.
All my life
i’ve wanted
to feel something…
be something.
2.
Truth told
i feel strange
in my own skin,
a suit which does not seem cut for me.
i cannot get comfortable inside it.
3.
Given
the option
of oblivion,
yes,
i would surrender…
as if by the soft closing
of my eyes i might
erupt into a plume
of flames,
a pleasurable, exploding
flower of my own invention,
my own bright spark.
4.
Desire, of course,
is not a path,
but a given power,
circling within us…
…an arc,
a dreamwire,
a looping
spark,
repeating
its orbital path,
scouring the night
with thickening
layers of laser lines,
sharpwires
cutting the
booming darkness
with their high trajectory,
carving from
fathoms of the
upward void
the lines of
a brilliant,
dizzying vault,
resounding with
the echoes
of our cries.
5.
Who, or where, am i,
if not dwarfed, standing
at the bottom of myself?
6.
What do i feel
but vertigo,
looking upward
into nothing?