He’s stopped again,
between thoughts,
he looks around like he’s lost,
sees something
and he’s off again.
He seems to be searching for
a door,
for these walls
do nothing but restrict him.
The sides of his skull ache,
his body breaks,
when he tries to take it
where he wants to go.
Did we ever think
that maybe he
sees the world
in electric colors
and sounds?
I guess there’s a chance
that he’s reaching so high;
because he wants to pull us down.
Does he even know we’re here?
If there’s something wrong,
the path is clear.
He’s not afraid of the dark,
he’s dealt in fear,
for another chance at leaving here.
Through the implied,
but accepted spectrums
that hide from the eyes;
subtle universe,
I have thought his life
was an anomaly from the start.
What sets him apart?
Is it his imagination?
Delusional fantasy?
Rejection of this reality?
Sick of this life,
sick from his frailty;
temporary,
yet infinite in his capacity.
Oh, look!
He’s trying to climb
the sides of his cage again.
How high do we let him get
before we knock him down?
The higher he goes,
the greater he falls.
His heart is so strong,
but his mind is so small.
It’s a really good thing
he can’t find the holes in the walls.
Constantly
struggling,
fighting,
fucking,
creating,
loving.
Never one more minute
of peace on this rock.
He’s not waking up;
he’s never slept.
He’s not what we thought
that he was;
living just because.
What do you make of him?
He’s anything that he wants.
HG – 2017
