the Roundabout

the altar and the seventh circle ignite the same story within us.

who am I to uphold this truth?

I know because I’ve been to both;

the distinction, while minimal, is an important discovery.

settle, aggressively — but not too aggressively.

people are always watching, judging.

how’s your simulation compared to mine?

comparatively, we should stop comparing.

grand river rapids obtaining the aluminum…

autumn sunshine turned sulfur.

“acidic!” the broom said.

surfaces beneath me tremble.

each thistle packed with thousands of others.

all advising and abiding by the doctrine.

so forth they represent to see.

what is life itself it isn’t for he?

I know nothing but of what he has given me.

It can — and will — be gone then….

I can live somehow.

Infancy arises,

with or without your sanity.

I repent…

every.

single.

day.

with what was once my arch nemesis.

who is to blame here?

who is really to blame?

the sentence of any man is decided within.

how long are you in for?

the shadows accept my pain,

I’m glad for their open-mindedness.

the rose bushes admit they look up to me;

I admire their candidness.

the eavesdropping of my inner-self never goes as planned;

–I thought I would know I was there–

thank god for my self delusion.

I never looked away again.

new life alters the inconceivable.

motivation thrown forth, epileptic in nature.

why must the victim always be present?

I, for one, am tired of false narratives.

present, present, present…

but am I?

deluded, yet aware enough to look back.

hesitation, skepticism, growth, is everything;

or is it everything to me?

am I living in the world or am I living in my world or am I living in my view of the world, and if so, how are they all different?

how can we all coexist?

i have shaken thy shadows,

the most satisfying, remorseful trade.

shall I ignite the fire?

or extinguish the flame?

no matter at all, my good friend.

the answer is in our palms.

single-handedly, I look down,

what is the abyss?

my foresight has never eluded me.

what level of consciousness are you on?

is certainty an option where I am?

is this reality or merely my reality?

my body says it is;

my mind concurs.

the lights gleam validity.

my shoes lay waste to the island I’m on.

my soul drips conscientiousness.

I save myself for the blame entirely.

standards aren’t static.

vibrations satisfying neurological urges.

old tales harassing my state of mind.

where is my fucking owner’s manual?

by: Corey M. Rose