06 September, 2012

Big Black Mark

A big, thick if slightly
Crooked black line
Has been drawn across my
Thinking, and has been there
For quite some time.
Over the years, it has shifted
Slightly, becoming more
Squiggled and wiggly,
But always wide and clearly
Defined. Unfortunately,
Recent events had
Forced me to completely
Erase it: Dragging an
Enormous piece of rubber
Through the only line
I had ever put my faith
Into, and to redraw
An entirely new one;
This one dark but much
Too thin, so that I
Should most certainly
Have realized that it
Would not, could not
Be effective. The
Old outline was much
Too prominent: the
Shadow still remains,
Faint now but clearly
Visible- and although
It has proved unacceptable,
It is the boundary that
I've become familiar with;
Yet it is not enough.
It took years to
Construct it carefully.
This new line,
This thin line,
Was also drawn with extreme
Caution, yet I can't
Decide: did I unintentionally
Cross it? Or did I not
Quite draw it in the
Most useful position?
Did I fail,
Or did the boundary I
Placed for myself?
No... not just for
Myself. For her.
Always for her.
Maybe that was my mistake.
Maybe it should have been,
For morality.
But morality was far
From my intention
(Obviously)
When I rubbed my old
Big Black Mark away,
When I took the pencil
And traced it carefully
Across my feelings,
Slicing my own emotions
Into two and three pieces
Each, ignoring my
Own pain, my own
Sacrifice and suffering;
Again, I did this for her.
Does she know?
But she couldn't know.
How could she?
What would cause her
To think inside of
My own twisted frame
Of mind? The answer is
Simple: nothing.
And so I have failed.
All of my efforts,
For naught.
This new line
Has amounted to nothing.
It has ruined the mission,
Let me down miserably,
Completely destroyed
All provisions, put
Into place in such
A paranoid fashion,
But overall
It has broken down.
What else has it broken?





It has shattered time,
For now at least.
Will it fit back
Together? Or are
Too many shards missing,
Scattered across the
Floor: swept under rugs
And into the crevices
Of my muddled mind?