Digging into the dusty depths of my memory
To unearth some detail of sudden recall…
Remembering where I put a thing I had years ago,
and wondering if I should still have it after all this time.
I think that
If we kept things as long as we keep memories,
Maybe we’d all have more clutter
in our lives
than clean.
A trap’s plight
is not in its catch,
but in its purpose…
To engage and outwit;
Without cunning,
but with bait –
Those in its clutches
rarely aware of the coup
until almost
too late.
In quite mindless fashion,
we’re often first to answer questions –
and yet,
last to question the answers.
I’m not an alcoholic,
but I could’ve been
because
how easy it is
to drench all my problems
in wine,
and forget them –
But I always seem
to take the hard roads.
Once,
I wrote a poem
that could’ve changed
the world…
If I could just
remember the words,
I could do it again.
But it only lived
briefly
in my mind;
I never write the good ones
down.
Ninja;
quiet stealth…
Outcome, unexpected.
Trappings – wealth.
A spy
of her
own decry.
The world never wooed me,
But its potential
Does.
I am spider –
spinning theory
[of] silken thread.
My captures
untrapped…
My body of work,
Untapped.
And then there’s me;
Masterful Outlier…
…as yet, unmatched.
Try to play along
But it’s exceedingly clear
You’re not happy to have me
And I’m not happy here.
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