Truncation

Truncation

I do not wish for a totality of rationale or chapter conclusion

To all this confusion stitched in sense that precludes the appendage

Of a request for further clarification, just a human

A human who gets as much as she gives

From my presence in this space to live

Am I too selfish?  Am I scarred?  Is there a reason I am barred

From observing the high of this genius learning the curves

Of the bends of the teeth to chew into the bark of that forest

Growing up in roots I have been sawing through for so long now

I do not know what to make peace with and end this eternal

Self destruction like a novelty of continual re-construction

Roots asunder sliced in parcels and perpetual blunder

The lighting is perfect, the sound is coming like the bell of the morning

The blue December is calling the snow and every chance the corner

Is turning I go and fell the trunk like a rampaging drunk

Wandering the vagabond streets of midnight like a semicolon

On this run on sentence that will never end

And I never hear those bells ringing because all this silence

Just keeps on screaming like a quest to forget making out with

The wrong postal route addressed to a state where no one’s left

But mutinous pirates and I am the just a bystander to this riot

On the open seas writing to myself asking why am I so lost?

Ignoring the cost of never hearing the triumphant bells

Ending this for the seventh iteration to the story I retell

Truncated joy undulating between resignation and the brutality of hope

I just keep on sailing on this depleting boat of soap

Cleansing these waters and drowning me in increments

Knowing no savior is coming, no row boat is strumming

The waves of these seas to come and find me

With acoustic guitar strings in rhythm to the poetry of my means

To see me for human waxing erratic and blazing ecstatic

That the love of her sound has erupted like a volcanic island

Rising to the surface of the ocean, solid ground in saving the tragic

Truncation of this nation of two that could imbue so much love

If only the hand could put on the glove, but the body is staring

At the sun rays glaring down like misty veiled ropes ladder up

And the soap is so long dissipated from the deck of this frigate