I’ve drifted far through smoke and tears
For what seems now like years
On years
But that’s not exactly right
No, it’s not entirely true
The smoke was a mist
A fog of sorts
And drift’s not drifting
Not at all
No, not drifting, as I recall
More like floating or maybe flying
Fast into the future, hiding
From myself
Or past lives calling
Helplessly romantic
Falling
Headstrong into pure escape
Safe inside my hiding place
A state of mind or somewhat mindless
Far away from love that blinds us
Set apart collecting time
As distance turns a profit

And worry’s cross is never loss
Unless you love to worry
For worry whispers in your ear
An enemy that you keep near
And fear flows free
As one breathes air
Fear of failure
Fear of living
Fear of the truth
Aahh truth
Yes truth
An ugly word
Rearing it’s head
As it’s tearing down walls
Setting me free…
Free to be what?
A bird in a cage?
I truly think not
Truth is bondage
For me you see
That is, at least what seems to be

It’s elusive at best, but then again
Who am I to ask?
The how
The where
Or when
Free falling on purpose
Most definitely me
With a hellbent penchant
For misery
Desperate for acceptance
Changing at will
Like some cosmic chameleon
Blending
Blend in
Blended
Blend
So others may like you
Love you
Desire you
Call you
Want me
Want you
Always changing
Melding, transforming
Opening my hands wide
Reaching and grasping
Relaxing when I get what I want
Then, holding my hands up like stop signs
To keep people back
So they don’t get too close
Then, just as quickly, crushing hands closed
Except for his finger
To point blame at others
For troubles, for misery
The misery he craves
All the while spitting out
His favorite refrain:
“It’s not my fault!”
“It’s your’s!” you say
“It’s not so much me as it is you!”
Stuttering defensive words like
“That’s absurd!”
“I would never say that!”
“You must have us confused with someone else…”
Some other me
Another person
Another life
Some doppelganger copycat
Harbinger of strife…rat
Maladjusted and mistrusted
Likewise mistrusting
Moving farther away from reality
Until we are where we need to be…
Yes, I’ve changed the narrative
Several times indeed
From first person to third
Observer to observed
Some form of a left curve
Singular to plural
And you may disagree
Yet It’s all me and only me
Plus other views of me, you see
And so continue reading, please
Once again, we’re back within
The confines of our comfort zone
Selling dreams to plastic mannequins
They listen intently to everything we have to say
Like it’s the most wonderful news they’ve ever heard
Their fixed faces, always smiling
Yes, smiles…I’m sure they’re smiles
No winking eyes
Blinks or twitches
No stuttering words of love
Just staring their approval
Plastic people who can’t talk back
Just the way we like them
Comfortable
Quiet
In good company
Alone 😉

TM DiSarro
©2023 TM DiSarro/MindScapes Publishing

From my first book: THE BUSHMAN

available on Amazon