Every day

we struggle


the same old spiral.

Trying to be,

but not quite

finding a way.

Get a grip,

then it slips

on the next stage.


It’s like chrysalis

that doesn’t change a thing;

we don’t gain our wings,

we are the same as ever.

As if at some

crucial moment,

we lose our concentration;

regressing back to nothing.

But we were all born

to be something;

weren’t we?


Why else would we aspire

to the sky?

It shouldn’t be

this fucking hard

to break free

of this insanity.


I am one,

one in the many,

many disappointed,

disappointed people,

people of the garden,

garden of creation,

creation a token,

token of this problem,

problem begs an answer,

answer begs a problem,

problem begs an answer,

answer doesn’t satisfy.


Crawling out of another lie

and broken promise.

We were told the world

would be different

with our sacrifice,

but there is no measure

for the lust and for the faithless,

driven to make us

slaves to their avarice .


Maybe I’m the wrong one?

Maybe I’m not strong enough?

Maybe I won’t make it?

Maybe I’m not good enough;

to see the light





Taste of the struggles

behind me.

Past is crumbling,



my future one day at a time.



have led to experience


Am I sure I’m hearing this


there’s only one way

clear of the spiral

that is a circle,

locked in the square,

hemmed in by angles,

held down by one sky,

four walls

and one skull.

It’s all invented,

so all we see is fences.


None of this was real before.

What is the purpose

of all these creations,

if not to stop some powerful one.

One meaning you.

One meaning me.

What if we were free

of these goddamned spirals?


HG – 2017

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