Masquerading

demons, where’s that damn rabbit at,
Alice takes the clock back,
looping memories, frontal cortex
I push towards unconscious, depths,
Forgotten repression, symbolic steps,
Wandering in the freedom of unfiltered dreams,
I’m not licensed and my wishes wash away,
Temporal seams ripped and affray,
I’m not afraid.

I do think of you, like you said I would,
But not in the way that you think.
A semester in your poetry is all it took,
Journeys criss crossed,
Cross words and lost hearts,
scattered alphabets in two dimensional art,
chain stitching piano pieces,
where swans and owls meet,
reverse-engineering creativity: forgive me.

I was the fickle one
Thought I knew what I wanted
Until the thing I discarded was gone,
Transcending tragic heroes,
Protagonist gone wrong.
Shake and spear that though,
I was Ophelia all along.
Vowels sound out, misnomer song,
Maybe it was glib, son.

The black sun colds my soul:
I don’t need your judgement,
In this endless pit of love.