Old Sub-Routines

 

It always starts off

the same way.

It lingers on the threshold

of my reality,

leads me down old, familiar streets,

begging me to see.

All I recognize are personalities.

Something coaxed into being

by grey skies,

and uncertainty;

not an organic vision.

 

Sometimes,

it pleads with me

to be who I am,

but I can’t discern the question.

Is there really someone else

in here with me?

Is there somewhere else

I can be?

 

I shudder at the notion.

Left of the right,

right of the left.

This all means nothing.

In this transition,

all we can rely on

are “Up” and “Down”.

 

I am standing here,

hearing your voice

whisper poetry to me.

I am an escapee

of a former life,

and I can feel something,

like the first day

I opened my eyes.

 

 

HG – 2020

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