Fixed stars,
fixed species,
fixed mind.
Is it unkind for me
to say
That I feel trapped by my
torpitutude,
ineptitute,
decrepitude?
I picked at my bounty
like a scab,
Till it was gone.
2.
I have a sordid relationship
with my soul,
Who shackles me to a fallen
structure,
And watches with foreknowledge
the exposed outcomes.
I enter into foreplay
with my deficiencies,
And with the fixtures
around me,
Till they grind me down.
Do they remind me
of missed lessons,
Or remand me
for nixed opportunities?
There is only a winding down
till I am worn out
and
almost gone.
3.
My soul is hardwired into place,
But the surrounding structure
is weak.
What can restore the symmetry
between mover and moved?
I live in a house filled
with my deficiencies and eccentricities.
These rub against me
in a deafening cacophony,
And rob me of hearing
The symphony of the sun,
as it blares out in spring,
I am unable to greet it
with a single flare.
The sunlight weighs
on my eyelids,
And my breath lies heavy
on my mouth.
Is an end to my suffering near?
Can I learn to become clear?