There’s fire and there’s ice

and with me there is slush

betwixt in confusion

so hindsight will tell me

wondering why

 

These opposites attract

but I fail to conduce

The dichotomy is false

The landscape is two

Bifurcated and sentient

debasing each branch

the enigma of my shrinking

is inexplicably apt

 

No match for my will,

my unspeakable truths

sneak in through backdoors

until thrown out the front

And the epiphanal irony

and convenient misfortune

of a doormat acknowledged

 

I’ve so little to say

i’m resorting to speak

So please give me one hour

and forgive me for two

 

Don’t ask of the problem

I don’t want to prove true

that I can’t be a liar

with nothing to confess

and still be dishonest

in spite of all silence

and private cacophony

 

Vibes will grout questions

let them linger as I do

Let the night cure through

Let the sun rewind

Let the process renew