It can be confusing sometimes knowing
where to make the divisions.
It is hard to see what is to be left behind
and what exactly
is it:
a being deeply moved or utter disillusion? this
strange life have I
all along only been living in a fragile story held together by my own grit and grim stubbornness
or really yet is it a wonder
an awe not vetted complete by human understanding only grasped in flashing moments undefinable in words
by the time a pen is in hand I feel a great evasion
aversion
still even in knowing it am ill-equipped to stop myself from the evasion.
aversion.
Something must pick it up in me and put it to place.
Something must turn my feet to the corner and make my way to the next avenue.
There is not will enough, me alone.
where to make the divisions.
it is hard to see what is to be left behind
and what exactly is worthy of pen on paper.