I am liberated,
Though still under ownership of the master class.
I am free to think, to express.

My limbs are bound to the path by regulations and expectations.
But my eye is free to wander as it pleases,
Because I've allowed myself to look beyond the road we walk on.
To the left of it,
to the right.
Tilting my head toward the sun, I see only energy in the form of flames.
A sign to me that the tiny bit of energy comprising myself is capable of being much more than what it is in this moment.
This is something I needed to know,
those walking beside me must be told.

I* remember the feeling of waking up for nothing
                   The empty, gray taste everything had
        How I'd stare off
Out windows
Or across streets

                              I remember walking to the river
           And the grass not bending beneath my feet
              The current wouldn't change nor stop for me
   And I imagined it would always be this.
               Having everything I had always wanted right in front of me and it not matter

            I remember being stuck in the rain and not getting wet

         Watching
             Quietly accepting what was, and simultaneously not acknowledging what it meant.
    
        It was comfortable, but now *I want control.

At night rise, to the buzz of my son’s blood,
I wake and blow aboriginal dust from my lungs,
Get up and take a turn around the house.

The place has gotten cold.
This ****-eyed family – good God, they are helpless.
I tried to help by leaving things behind,
Like this prayer on the wall
About the timelessness of beauty.
And did you find the poem
About Freud and mountain climbing?
All they do is wail privately
And try to pass it off as singing.

My son sleeps like a chessmaster,
Shocked into resignation.
He dreams about me,
And his dreams are riddled with light
And longing for the past.
Such nocturnal naiveté.

But he knows the stars
And because, like the ancient Greeks,
He can follow them home,
He will leave this place before it leaves him.

This house gets smaller all the time.
Still, the furniture breathes quietly,
And the dancers in the tapestry sway
Though faded by the sun.

The dust from my breath settles down in layers.
Pale light silvers the living room mirror.
My steps leave footprints before each foot falls.
The footprints lead back to my door.

It is time to lie down.
Soon my son will wake up,
And shake off the ashes of sleep.
I don't live here any more.
My death will begin again.

God is just a metaphor
for something we're all searching for.
Her god loves, his god fights,
your god kept me up at night. (Just like his mother Mary)
Subjective gods, subjection lies.
                        I see through his selective eyes.

I don't speak to people who say nothin at all.
Voices laced with grace, no sincerity just *****.

To me sleep is sacred
          a time where we all die.
                         I didn't feel His presence,
                                               I knew only mine.

My relation with her
inhabits a silent space,

you don't need to talk much
below the ocean's surface,

it's like a rest after your work is done
an earned breather after a long run.

Now it's holding hands and swimming together
having seen all the weather.

I've been everywhere with your image,
Imagined experiences you'd never willingly share with me.
Its okay,
What's authentic may not be to my liking anyway.
I love the personalities I create.
To date, they've never bit the hand.

Play

I am not the answer
I don't know the answers
Google it
I am not the reason the wax melts.
After years of staring at the flame,
entrancing, dancing, blue and yellow flame,
I've decided to touch it.
Ninety-nine cents per lighter
They told me not to touch it
but I like to do things I'm not supposed to.
Like kissing girls and eating icing off of the cupcakes.
Touching the flame is just another rule to break.
See wikipedia for a list of breakable rules.

I bought this candle for you
Only he knew I can't sleep without
the window cracked a  bit.
Researchers say that's bad for your health.

The flame flickers
But I didn't have the answers,
and I couldn't find them.
He wanted instantaneous,
but I'm still a bit old fashioned
in this digital age.
Everything changes so fast.
Get the latest updates on your device!

A breath, a whoosh, the flame is gone.
I knew things were different when
we reached out to touch *(the screen) but

*Pause