Far Too Long

3 October 2005

These tears
behind my eyes, welling; choking;
needing to spill down my
cheeks, dry for far too long.

I cannot close my eyes, or else
they'll run free, finally pressed
beyond capacity to reinforce
self-delusion; fantasies of
what is not, nor ever was.

I fear this acknowledgement
of grief; abandonment;
acceptance of reality as it stands
right now.

It's not that I desire insanity; rather,
these fantasies distract me
from infirmities which threaten to undo
my well-being. I seek to preserve
what I can of what is left of who I was;
who they were; what I once held
as Truth.

I'm afraid it comes to this, and naught else:
The practice of sanity demands a price...
I feel the tension in the strings
of my psychological purse... I take my leave

and long to see no more of these
selves which I have carried around
for years inside of me. They dwell
within the waters of my mind;

the tears
behind my eyes, welling; choking;
needing to spill down my
cheeks, dry for far too long.