THE CLOSET MYSTIC

exist in a realm beyond causality

i’ve no firm grasp on a shared reality

i exist in a sequence 

where each number’s anomalous 

but this evades mere randomness

for it is without emptiness

chaos 

is oft thought meaningless

but there’s linearity

underlying 

the insanity

look deeper — 

NO!

not that deep…

back.

the chickens, do you see them?

they always 

come home to roost.

the unconscious erupts if you neglect it!

will it be mere confetti

or a pyroclastic flow?  

the denial of your innermost self

is you choosing 

this:

instead of destroying 

the chains that contain

i 

will instead bear 

the burden of atrophy.

i said back!

back up, please. 

i can see what you’ve denied!

i can see those plates slide

pitiful!

your tectonic soul —

prideful. 

an insincere veneer 

you smile 

with your face in the Sun

ne’er to look 

at all that festers 

in the shadow 

cast behind.

“remember, remember, the fifth of november — 

the gunpowder, treason and plot — 

i see of no reason why the gunpowder and treason 

should ever be forgot.”

the crescendo 

cannot be escaped,

merely staved.

what 

will you choose? 

your own unconscious

conspires against you.

will you be 

the stormed 

bastille?

or 

are you one of 

the liberators?