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WITHOUT A REFERENCE POINT
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PSYCHOLOGY I crave....in hunger of my mind...
To know why I chase the rabbit like I do.
I want to stop the relentless running,
That leaves me foaming at the mouth like a rabbid dog.
My subject
Runs through brambles and bushes,
Thickets and forrests,
Mountains and ravines,
Of endless mindgames.
Yet, I still latch onto that scent,
Where I think I can circumnavigate circumstance.
Where I think I can out maneuver life...
Of places of where I think she might be.
I don't want to run into her,
I'm afraid and I am fragile.
I loved her with all my heart,
And what she showed me was her reflection off dry ice...
Slowly disapating into nothing.
I left with nothing....no image...just memory.
She lives on in a world of fantasy...
A fantasy that made my life perfect.
And everytime I see her, I'm wracked with pain,
Of want and desire, of lament and anguish.
Why did she have to come back into my field of vision,
Just when I started to feel safe again?
I thought I had to figure out what happened...
So I could find myself.
I'm finding out, that if this is the case...
Finding me only when I find her...
I will never regain myself.
There may be no resolution,
But I have to swim through the occlusion,
The stained blemish on my life,
To start living again.
Without a reference point.
