Untangle

The eastern sun spills into the fluorescent lit room,
and the pile of emails double for every blink of the eye, 

the winds lie still in a deathly stare,
and the spine moans of invisible thorns
that twist around like a widow's song.

I search for a lyric, for a thought, for a dream,
Perhaps, memories of joy, of laughter, of snow,
Or metaphors that could lay my heart out bare,
But all I find is a distant glare.

I remember, I once had an affair with words,
They danced in my head from dusk to dawn,
Vivid nights of passionate beats,
sweaty expressions and intense duets,
often turned to lines, verses, and songs -
of longing to meet a goal no small,
of failure to recognize my every fall,
of searing pain wrapped in grit,
of envying a remorseless love that bit,
of fortitude in flying unprepared,
of pride in success that no one cared,
of kindness, of concern for this pale blue dot,
of idiocy that all seemed like a ruthless plot.

I commanded them like a matron of the yore,
slashed them like a whip to the floor,
now they all twist around my head to toe,
like an angered snake that wouldn't forgive,
they squeeze me in and devour me whole.

Anger? Guilt? Remorse? Pity?
I lament like a child lost in a city,
a city I can no longer call my home,
parsed lanes that I once used to roam.

I see faces in this search for words,
of responsibilities, duties, and priorities in herds,
A high, a low, and distant glows,
this heart's desire ebbs and flows,
peace, love, and squashed hopes,
stumble together down the slopes.

Untangle, dear thoughts of mine,
for words shall mean when you confine,
I'm desperate for the winds to chime,
before I whimper out of my prime.

aeroyogi
1/8/2018