Post-Neology

I vow to live like I got nothing left to lose,
Since I’ve already lost everything,
At least a couple times before,
Except my illusions of you.
Those I can’t stop holding onto,
Even though I see the rented smoke machine,
Behind your curtain barely hidden,
Spewing out a crawling fog obscuring,
Those not-so-secrets which burn too bright,
To gaze upon without blinding,
Even though I swore and still swear,
That I’d choose the sun over sight.
As long as I permit the charade,
By unwilling but witting participation,
From which only you can excuse me,
My eyes cannot see but your specter,
Haunting the edges of my freedom,
Where we built our foolish fence,
Thinking we could hold the world at bay,
As if we could wish the waves to crash,
Upon any other foreign shore.
Now you patrol the edges of our swamp,
Taunting me to transgress the border,
Knowing I’m stuck until you loosen the leash;
Knowing you’re just as powerless as me;
Knowing forever we’ll share our palisade .

I’m may be a prisoner here but my walls,
Have shown me what freedom really looks like,
Better yet what it feels like:
Stretching a muscle you never knew you had,
To run a marathon  from the halfway point,

Free to follow any runner or none.

Keep your barrier, it suits you better anyway;
Build them taller if it helps and I’ll stay, smiling,
Because I don’t have to be free from my confines,
To be free from you.