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Don't try to catagorise it
as low self-esteem

That's not what's at issue

It's more of a feeling
that only a very small part
of what I do
of how I live
my thoughts
my existence
the hours and hours
that pour over the side of the cliff
means anything
and that the other
very large part
is just me getting in the way
being wrong
or hypocritical
or prejudiced
and surely misguided

I'm one point shy
of passing the test
that gets you into the club
of intellectual
where everything fits
every question has an answer
and darkness
isn't your closest companion

Something's missing

My heart is homesick

It's been that way a long time

Where is the
wild-eyed romantic
passionate warrior

I played it safe
as a child

I'm still a child
playing it safe
in a grown-up body
like a three-year-old
trying to walk
in his dad's shoes
calling for help
hearing nothing

I remember a time
a clamour
that exposes a pattern
approaching the seat of power
the halls of the self-assured
in false-humility
to seek my favour there
only to be found empty
a brightly wrapped package
with nothing inside

The cold critical wind
from days long gone
still blows right through me

No amount of scarves
or gloves
or work
or friends
can bring any prolonged warmth

For in the end
we all go home
each to our own darkness
hang our hats
eat our supper
fall asleep
and wonder if tomorrow will be any different

© 2005 (17 november) john r. chase

i wanna get off, mommy...