light leaks, the asylum i see
worn down by a world of people
that don't care
take your heart and strip it bare
like savages, ravaging on the little scraps that are left
leave you depleted, functionally bereft
I'm no "snowflake"
and I'm no "wuss"
and, no, i don't "crunch n munch"
on that thing "real men" eat,
ends in y, rest is puss
doesn't mean I'm not real
or "a man"
I'm just from the wired
to get fucked by one, clan
but that's where the similarities to
"my kind" end,
walking this life, "fucking freak"
me, the awareness, i never quite fit
with anyone or anything
long enough to breathe, relax, sit
and just "let shit be"
feel secure in all i sense, see
what's that, i smell?
the embers burning,
"take a hike, bro", to hell
"and make sure once you get there,
all you did to deconstruct, destroy, dismember"..
your own self,
for the expense of another
by the "you offered it freely,
so i took it", energy of others
always with the dream, hope, wish
that I'd be seen, the same light, gift
i saw so "divinely damaged", in them
beauty is, as beauty perceives
love is as realized as the love it receives
it takes a believer to embrace a deceiver
like it takes a leash
to train a golden retriever
liars attract the truthful
like the candy man attracts the youthful
and you know what they say,
it's because "he can"
so careful, please, whose "hold",
your heart, hand
light leaks, the soul, speaks
imparts it's art, then, bleeds,
from the start...
the start of "something"
is it good, is it bad?
"mixed signal madness"
heightens the "happy",
then devours you, the sad
so I'm no weakling
I'm actually quite strong
to walk through fire, to try
to show, real love, real connection,
it's a "cherish", i abide
problem is, here,
the land of "excuse", and "run, hide"
when "unusual" is found,
the lengths of love, heart, inside
cuz if everyone's not like that
then there's surely something
wrong with me
lived out, lived through
and though lessons learned,
i remain committed to the asylum, i see
the one in which
bonds and "ships", do matter
friend kind, relation kind,
beyond all the lies and loss
the wounds, they seep,
but for you, the risk, it was worth
the here, after...
(because yes, i did feel,
what you call "magic", i call rapture)
bowen hart roselli
17 july 2020
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.