beautiful boy,
I mislead myself down the aisle of my mind,
blaming you for the silence
but not the empty
golden light is a nourishment
and a nostalgia.
faded glory and uns(c)ene plays
regrettably
defended.
Could I defend my (in)action,
tell myself that all is done,
and done for all
time, relativity,
and peace....
Sometimes the I wish for freedom,
for I tire of these games.
It is like reincarnation,
repetition without respite
Cinnamon air
and playing for keeps.
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