Disappearing

I want to know
why I did what I did.
There are answers floating
in dark clouds that linger.
Overhead, from thundering skies,
thick red drops rain down.

In the name of this sin,
keep the madness within.
I am masked and unfamiliar
in a scene of clowns and actors.
No words are useful so
I'm disappearing into the abstract.

Safety is hiding
behind metallic curtains.
Tan, white, and red stripes,
I can hardly feel.
I don't want to be found;
don't come looking.

Who I am is wrong and
what you see is an impression.
Lock your heart away:
preserve it for a peaceful day.
I can only be what you see,
but the light between us manipulates.

***************************************************

I don't even like philosophy. I don't like the questions because they have no answers, no good answers anyway. They rattle inside my skull and have kept me awake at night on more than one occasion. I think it's good to question, but no one can tell you the answer. You have to get there yourself. But what happens when someone sets a trap? What happens when you set the trap? What happens when the path to your answers is skewed or unmarked? It's like an ant losing his trail back to the hole, the whole.

Nothing I say is said lightly and nothing I write is written without it being deliberate. I mean my words in every way they can be understood. I mean them when I'm truthful and even more so when I'm deceitful.

Figure out which one I am today. Seriously.

And if you find an answer, do tell. Because I haven't a clue anymore.

Yes, I'm in crisis mode. No, I don't want you to bat your pretty little eyelashes.




"It's hard to be wise and in love." (or something to that effect) Bob Dylan