Me, Myself and I
Sought a new direction yet
unable to conquer our fears

because those haunting fragile songs
from our bewildered youth
defy all whimsical promise
love exists.

Those seductive lyrics linger
like decrepit dust
coating passionate shudders
embracing our woeful remorse.

We’re  tossed into a sea of uncertainty
or insanity
because love rendered us fearful
with knotty nightmares
that only the wild things answered
with masses of memories
suppressed into life’s book.

An alleged illumination
filled with earth born eruptions
as the wars waged into
composed silent paths
with declarative signs.

Paradise denied
Me, Myself, and I frozen
in shackled lurid pages
always the same in our storied land of woe.

Guilt doesn’t speak the same language
as mythical songs of love
it violates any embraced isolation
blackened by illusions
until me, myself and I realize
we’ve been beguiled.
once again.©

“Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.” ― Lewis Carroll