Prime Numbers
I’m an outstretched thumb pointed to the open road Finally at home on the path of least resistance A path I never expected to tread but not one that I regret I now settle within this afterglow A flickering candle blowing violently in the wind, but still lights the way No longer a slave to taciturn resentment All that feigning pleasant betrayed me to debts of perpetual penitence The biggest indignity: I’m an innocent bystander in my own life A knife’s blade in my back, split at its handle, spun myself in circles My own handiwork, a casualty of my own cruelty Placated away through good deeds, diving headlong into oblivious naivete A leap of faith, a jammed parachute Meandering late-nights, couldn’t be further from the point Last-ditch efforts pissed away on propping up a structure hollowed out at its core I fix my watery, weary eyes to this desolate trail before me Voice too hoarse to continue pleading only to the sound of this echo I embrace it’s uncertainty, and discover in solitude There’s more to learn in letting go, than to chase lust by proxy, desperately plundering our worth. As far as what this poem’s about...well, we’re better off without sometimes. (oftentimes?)