the past wanders in the now
I’m a ghost in my own skin
pacing the halls of my labyrinth
inner cries and whispers
slither in and out
the sum of conditioned response

I’m a guest in my own house
always uncomfortable in my skin
nothing stays the same
unique circumstances follow grooves
concentric patterns mimic
previously circled paths
I’m always looking for ways
to name the loop
break the spell
touch the invisible cage
that holds me back
trapped in my points of view
that don’t permit me to choose
another way
I keep a tight grip on
what they say are the facts
or I might lose the compass
that points me to what’s true
when I open the lid to the within
the truth comes in endless hues
different perspectives
refracting through the prism
of sensory perception

I am my smirking Restraint
dressed in compassion
the rage takes shape
a game that hides its face
a noose around the neck
a toothy smile
that almost snaps in bites
jagged edges loosely drawn
a watery reflection
that shifts before it’s pinned
they tell me to find the black dot
all I find is an optical trick
a grid with no resolution
rules without a game to correspond

I am the hunter in the maze
looking for a way back
from fallen grace