he knows what i think about and understands i am under siege

he lives his life between visions

i live mine between inaudible metal clicks inside my wristwatch

i know that there are things destructive and angry inside of me

i know there are things beautiful inside of me too

input and data and twisting grains of thought turn my head in every direction

i am yoked by my rage to burn forward; channeled by a stick in my brain

i see visions of people i used to know and devilish flashes of ones i wish i didn't

i am warped and flawed and my free will has rendered me an outcast from the garden

i am ignorant of more than i know about even though my words try to prove otherwise

my hands ache from digging

i am tired of being angry at things i have already lived through

honor sometimes exists in the wars you decide not to wage

i am exhausted with thinking about pictures i burned

pictures that used to mark the pages of a book about Chopin

i am fatigued by insane notions of cosmic justice

there is no rest for the wicked

and some days i sleep not at all

i am tired of fearing the destruction of my life

i am tired of running in place

i am tired of blaming myself for the ignorance of others

i am tired of holding up the fallacy of perceived virtue

i am worn through the floor thinking about the race that never started

i

am

tired

of

hating

the

child

that

lives

in

the

layers

of

my

self

portrait.