.away fly I before, me to fly So

unrestrained by all the numbers
holding me to an identity, a spot
in the paleolithic equation, that even I
could understand, if I retrieve those
scrunched up emotions in the pit of
my stomach and the faces
I'm afraid would mean something. to me.
Where - a face is not a face, but
a disfiguration of features to which I assign
a favourite trait, a familiar characteristic,
the unique qualification that makes a smile
gentle, difficult, heavy, or his eyes, filled
with the black matter of my own heart, and
complex variables spread across the spectrum
of your iris, almost reflecting
everything.

Can you take the final blow of my c o n f e s s i o n?
I am dishonest.
I want to say,
that I love only you,
but the truth is,
I have loved many.
Though, my love for you is not diminished
one little bit. Someday I'll learn to find the truth
and the fibres of innocence, worn so proudly
in my youth, strung loosely in memories;
why one isn't enough, is something
that scares me everyday.

Did you know, you only have one fatherhood
to screw up,
and you can't redeem one
with the other,
the righteous knows no exceptions
when you broke every promise
in the faterhood book of ethics
my only failure is never to tell you this.
And I shall endure the hell.
and I only wish your son well.
And you were the first to break my heart
I had it in my mind you would come to say
you changed your mind
not the messenger
or the bear, stuffed with
a stranger's pity, evanescent
as that birthday
all I wanted was a piece of you,
some profound universal secret
a wisdom to resound through the rest of my decisions
that it could be real,
to take away with me for all fractured time.


imagine a place
with you
on a level plane, spacially free
to fill it with observation
our contingencies
that which defines us
the way we want to be defined.
How far it is from
living in this moment and
all we hide from each other,
just speak the unspoken and unspeak
the spoken, and skip to the middle
we could be happier
in confusion than absolute clarity.


I feel so perplexed in this skin
like the girl who clings to her curtains
and sits alone in a closet
with kind-sighted memories of sugar cane
fields, under one of those
heaven's finest sun masked days,
but the little eccentricities
pervade every impulse
dulls receptivity over decree
of humanity's simplest.
I'll leave political schisms
for the tactical spirits
who live in jaded disenchantment.
That is sometimes myself.
-
if only science could serve the answers
for lifeforms perpetuated
and all the whys,
and if only there was an answer from God.
Or how that people in adversity can have
so much hope for something better
but people with an iota of wealth
can't see beyond the paranoia,
human conspiracy, the narrow-mindedness
of Darwinistic preconditions.

So when is the time to be 19
and a girl
for one day
to make the parochial mistakes
with no arsed-up apologies
karmic repercussions.
Truly I would
pull
the words from this page
until they promenade around my head
and I can take it in mouthfuls of
hard liquid shots.
I would find those petty pieces of grace
and pretend they came from you.
..shhh..
love is the lump in my throat every time I think of you
atomically ancient
as any chemical existence.
I want to take you
even as you brush me off
for the undependable,
discord of polarised doctrines
and those parts that I don't understand
I'm not a dumb girl
I'll know you better than anyone.

and I have
all that
to keep it interesting.
In a world of spares.
I am virgin-eyed,
mercurial as a
bermuda road.

.me reach don't you if, mending keep So

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