purgatory

words have fled my tongue

because while I have been home,

ostensibly 'healing', all i can think

is that once again

i am receiver of an unjust universal balance,

righteousness for those crimes

i cannot remember, far before

I was me.

i'm suspended in time

too far from the past

and yet fingers just missing

the latest future as it barely slips by

escaping the grasp of this creature

I Am.

Love.

is rebellion,

in a universe that bids me

to surrender to bitter nothing.

attempts to push me further past the edge

of empathy

taunts me to my limit with each miss of new time-spun futures I glimpse,

glowing and warming my skin in this void

each one netted together, bound tightly

(don't let it get out - it's worth more than you are!)

and the worst are the ones

where the buzz is alive;

energy dancing, drawing me in,

only to glance off the pads of my fingers, leaving me

Desperate with a taste of possibility

then drawing away in a mico-second.

this endless prison that binds me with infinitesimal new threads

that emanate from every angle,

(or rather, non-angles of timeless, shapeless void)

but will not allow me to move forward or back--

this, I think, is true hell.

please pardon my silence.

speaking is pain

that I cannot endure

without compromise.