drawing lines through fragmented memories

i'd rather the truths of our inner worlds
(crashed)
than the facades that we give each other
(like so many handshakes, business cards, and
"nice to meet you"s.)
but again vision like clouds
and the inability to grasp the sun

the ethics of ambiguity
the wisdom of insecurity
titles with innards remembered
only in wisps & filaments

i don't know what i'm writing
nor who i'm writing for

but please believe me
i want you closer than is possible
between two beings born
apart

framed memories
picture postcards
i can't help but look
the sad countenance that tells
so much more than what it sees

the day before October

what to say in another moment that i know will change.
too full of memories. too full of pain.

who's advice shall i carry with me through all the moments of trauma
we experience? who will bother to love us?
wretched of the earth.

rage under rages.
and once the match is lit
a quick flame
deafening blankets.

at a certain point we must leave Virgel's side
at a certain point we must not look back.
at a certain point we must set ourselves free.

it is your freedom that i desire.

your house has always been on fire.
you have always been literate even if you can't read.
you will always be with god. and even when i'm gone
i will always be by your side.
i don't take vows lightly.

it is the interpretation of what is being held sacred
that is in question
and the translation of the words that are at fault.