It can be difficult, even when things are going well, to not get our wires crossed or follow those paths we are most tempted to follow. We get stuck on repetition. Trying to navigate to a better future can sometimes leave us feeling out of touch with ourselves and the rest of the world.
Roots and Roadways
Sorry I've been so out of touch
I've been swimming on a sea
Still sailing on the edges
Fringes of sunrise fleeting
Tearing out these desiccated wires
Crossing over these crossed out desires
Sands across this surface are on fire
And I find my heart wandering again
Taking tangled neurons by the handful
And trying to just put back the stars
With each errant new constellation failing
To connect the proper dots
A crimson world thick with dead veins
Roots and roadways of a wasted youth
Useless thoughts consumed in idle idolatry
And these never-healing wounds
Apologies for not being myself
Afraid I may have conjured these palpitations
Attempting to disarm these detonating feelings
Convinced that I could do the calculations
How could I possibly come to recall
All the places that my train of thought left off?
How these failures manifest and then
Exponential they start to multiply
Trying to save an Eden unfulfilled
Drowning fantasies like sinking ships
Split in two and down into the depths
A voyage doomed from the outset
Still channeling out this SOS
Strong pulses and dark reflections
Trying to find the strength to love myself
Seeking a clear sense of direction
Fishing up these old wrecks
Servers dedicated to failures ancient
Ice bergs dead ahead
Steered toward trauma I cannot forget
Sorry it seems so complicated
With every fiber of my being
I wish I could peel back these layers
And maybe just be me
So much beauty in this hostile land
The stark azure sky swallows me up
I'd build a home out on this ice
And warm this world for both of us
But if this forest is to thrive here
If these clouds are to be broken
I must disarm this before midnight
Convinced of my own navigation
Scribbling these febrile screeds
Call it automatic writing
Heart filled with head-empty theosophy
Ghosts still hungry, haunting
Apologies if this feels faint
On my back remembering the sight
Of stars above and doors beneath
And the rhythm of the sunrise
Pathology of these wandering tunes
Wafting messages in moonlight
Lost in the lunar dunes without a map
I buried my love but I can find it
If your eyes find this bottle
If by some miracle you've scrolled
If my brain I've managed to hot-wire
Sorry I've been out of touch
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