Anima


There is a place inside of me

Where my dreams go to die

A somber potter’s field

With no caretaker

No gravedigger

Just the silence of demise

The tombstones are inscribed

With nothing

The mausoleums are in disrepair

It is futile to glamorize

It is pointless to mourn

When this graveyard is but a chrysalis

Where my dreams become new apparitions

That refuse to not live

There is a place I can find

Where fear is a straitjacket

I smoothly slip my arms in

Accepting its comforting embrace

Hysteria tightens its restraints

Anxiety and abhorrence that is

Terrifying in its rationality

Lead me to a padded room

I am lulled to sleep

As they whisper

The lie that is a lullaby to my ears

“You will be safe here”

There is a land of whimsy

Where fantasy sings to me

And reality is an illusion

That I am blind to

Because I have a child’s eyes

I question everything

And receive nonsense

That enchants

And gibberish

That is perfect in its logic

There is a hall with walls

Lined with snap shots

A charmingly embarrassed smile

A head hung low in loneliness

A familiar look

In familiar eyes

That speaks more powerfully than words

There is no big picture

But every photo tells a story

And lets me bask in those minutiae

Reminding me that this life

Is a series of moments

And each one is precious

Beyond measure

In places there were once gaping wounds

Some of which I stitched

With a rusty needle and thread I tore with my teeth

Some grievous injuries never healed

They continue to weep blood

And some although small

Festered until the infection spread

And had to be cut away

I am patchwork

I have earned

Every scar

Of self-destruction

The labyrinth goes on

To places even I have not dared to look

My psyche is an every growing map

Limitless

And exquisite

Extraordinary

And dreadful

It forces me to love

More than it is safe to

It lead me to spill

My life force

When I spill this ink

And it creates within me

Loyalty so powerful

That the confines

Of eternity are laughable

Dirty, ashamed, damaged

Strong, breathtaking, inspiring

So complex

In its wonderful imperfection

There will never be another like it

And it is mine

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