Sleepless nights and
I have been out here too long,
But still the winding streets call me
And I walk them.
They’re all in my head.
I make out the broken path
By the light of a waning comet.
I am the destination
Of those dim midnight blues,
The mental carnivores that chase me.
I lose them in my winding streets,
But I lose me too.
And this evolving, familiar stranger
That talks to me like he once knew me,
He told me with a heavy heart,
You’re a free man in chains,
Or maybe you’re a free prisoner.
Oh well, hello denial.
I see now I am time’s canvass
And he’s been a poor artist.
Perhaps I don’t understand his art,
Perhaps I chose the painted colors. .
Through naked thoughts
On a rainy hesitant dawn,
I washed my unfamiliar face.
I washed it twice but it didn’t change
So I punched the mirror in the nose.
The shattered pieces laughed at me,
I was the only one who bled.
I haven’t written or posted anything in a while. I’ve been really apathetic to everything lately and it’s not a very nice place to be. Perhaps this poem comes from that place? I’d love to have your thoughts and interpretations of it. Feel free to share them in your comments.