| Battle of Wills Splintered through a kaleidoscope of glass shards, simplistic, streaked, and twisted, but joyful too, in a weird retrospective way, anysay. Forward, back; want, can't have; Pick my brain, or put it back... voluntarily lobotomized life. One foot forgetful forward; slipped. Oops. Holding my baby Holding my head (it hurts) Human taffee pull. Ghost fingers drawing away. There I am, hanging there, suspended from your claws, there in the middle of it all-- framed, trapped, boxed in. There I am through your eyes through mine ours blue green indigo thalo, our eyes. Outside inside telling me I'm wrong, and the cost will be counted. Chose wrong, and it's too far gone to backtrack. All thse psychic third eyes, forces, gifts, pressures-- Just me knowing. PamEhli/2001 There is a painting to go with this. The poem, however, was six years overdue. |
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| Since 1-9-03 |