All the negative space
In-between each tear
Has me slouching towards wisdom.
Learned impulses
And fractured heartbeats
Leave me drifting past knowledge.
What do I know,
About the human spirit.
What can I know?
As a sub human, bare threads
Of humanity
Lace their way through me.
Half made
Never worn
Over wrought
Ah, ceaseless motion.
Beating heart
Flowing blood
Ebbing tide.
Keeping me regular as
Rusted clockwork.
While I startle those around me
When I toll my bell on the hour.
A theatrical tragedy
Or is that a comedy of errors.
Only Shakespeare would know.
As I play Viola
A woman in men’s clothing,
Beauty guised as the mundane,
In an adaptation of my own circumstance.
Life as a double entendre.
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