2100
seven lines of light
cast a silhouette through my window
on the rise of a hazy dawn
slanted white picket fences
edge through unfulfilled spaces
piercing within my vertical binds
a delicate sway of shadow and play
as a warm breeze floats
like lethargic anchored dingy boats
I exhale a faint whisper into the oblivious
circle of life hovering above
energy awakens and begins its dizzy dance
the sun searches for my presence in this otherwise dim space
a hot touch finds my face
I squint as if staring at the abusive hand
of a dead lover
I recoil in a harsh memory laid to rest
I lay stoic listening for time to move
I step up on a stair spiraling down
to a door of self doubt
that has rotted with age
the hinges have rusted
only a drunken handle is left dangling
a window of fear
lurked by anxious ventilation
curdles inside its frame
it slams wide shut
when confronted with any shudder of pain
a bucket of anger spreads across vast memories
erasing all
in its spitefulness
both gentle and stark
a gilded glass ceiling shatters
over the matter of mind
somewhere inside sanguine and blind
