#3.19.23

3 years gone

Patterned paces perfected

Over a lifetime of painful experiences.

My posture is pushed over,

Hunched over in my shoulders.

Passed through remembrances

Pose a threat still at this point.

Pin cushion heart still pumps

But begs to die.

This way of being is needing

High percentages to get

Through the bleeding.

The treason is loving

Those who don’t see me.

Knife disguised advice,

You’re too alive.

In my burnt hands, still rolling dice.

Tried and true, bruised and blue.

Bipolar brain sees some better waves,

Only some days.

The way it is, a bitter taste.

Of swing-sets and cyan trips,

Of cinnamon covered crucifixion.

3 + (1 * √9) = 2 * 3

Also:

3 * 1 = (√9 * 2) - 3

Also: