Angst
Amid the scream of anger
The pain
Of growing up
The pain of being or becoming
A grown up growing up
Always in the past
Shit
That fucking stuff
Which brings regret
Awkwardness which opens
All those darkened doors
Too far away
And far too close
To see or to feel the love
Tears
And misheard conversations
No words bring justice
Where justice lies wandering
Where hope is left squandering
Or is pushed away completely
Fight or flight
In unselfish persecution
Of self, at best unworthy
Except of blame, shame that
You ever entered
Through life’s wide open door
Cannot love
Ever be left like this
Ever like this be left
Instead
The will of co-ordination
Fingers, just touch on fingers
For this is far too early
Far too early for a full on, come on
Shoulder wrapped embrace
Dare
Of each, and then of each other
Enter always the complicated situations
Engage your care
Back into those deep
Wider than furlong’s furrows
Leave space
Burrowed
With time; with gentleness
Of room for mistakes
And misappropriations
Conserve creation there for to cherish
This love, too far away
Far too close
Just now to see, or even to be seen
