In Shame

Desperation caused me to seek out
The answers I had been looking for
Visiting and revisiting the same location.
A location that appeared from the formation
Of letters pulled from the pages of poetry.
Day in and day out I’d pull these letters from the edges
Convinced they had been an encryption.
By chance, or perhaps a specter’s sedition,
The place remained the same, the words,
They unscrambled repeatedly in front of me.

I’d arrive at this place, unscrambling letters
On pieces of paper, in notebooks and folders.
I’d wait for directions, hoping it would lead me
To pearlescent gates; where we’d stand, substantiated.
In these letters, promises were made, a scavenger
Hunt had been initiated. I’d make mistakes, or I’d
Reluctantly pull away from the directed course of action
For they had been too much. They were things I couldn’t
Bring myself to carry out, due to emotions, fear or shame.
But I’d stay, I’d knock, on every doorway,
On each floor that had been indicated,
Entering the ones that remained open, uncertain
Of the room number that had been given in simple
Mathematical equations, but no one ever answered.

For months I chased a ghost, while keeping in mind
The lucidity of its being, because witnessing the paranormal
Would have been worth it. But it turns out,
Keeping it mind had not been enough
To keep me from getting locked in bear traps
That were hidden along the way. Hope
Turned reason into belief. The lengths I traveled
In prayer that reached no one, or fell on deaf ears,
Leave me here, in shame,
Tired and weary,
As I dispairingly recall
The foolishness in the pursuit of blind fascination,
While it viciously reminds me of my unrelenting stupidity.

Life seems to be trying to
Obscurely teach me a
Lesson: Don’t chase ghosts.


Am I Awake

A mess of words stuck to each other
Barely making any sense.
Was I that much of a mess back then.

Was I delirious
Am I awake now?

Then why do I
Still feel disoriented.
I feel my way through
A lightless woodland,
The rough bark
On my finger tips,
The crunching of crud
Underneath my feet.
My sensory receptors
Respond to stimuli,
But these things,
They don’t exist.
I try to find an exit
But can’t seem to find it.
From every direction
Trees of this Garden
Obstruct my way.
I tilt my head
Towards the heavens
Searching for the moon
But the specked sky is hidden
By shadeless canopy greens.

A lightning bolt strikes;
I then realise
I am naked.