The shadow (November 23, 2014)
I walk with a shadow that cannot be removed. It’s the presence that will bleed me dry if I slow just a little. A mind defined by the victim created in its wake of destruction and still I’m here waiting, debating the chasm set out before me. I am no one less, but no one more in equal, my parts; a prequel to sequel that in time has come to define me. Underlined and intertwined in the synapses that reclined to let me fall behind in mind and spirit, and as the spirits of our ancestors rewind and hear it, their monikers ill-spined, revere it because to be one with yourself is a line and you hear it calling and screaming behind the mirror.
It’s appalling and gleaming, my stake in this fate is revealing, my ego needs to feed like a cinema reeling. To start over is an end to fear while I’m standing here bleeding sword drawn and believing, Because I’ve been there and seen it’s eyes, lurking in the dark, it’s presence; divides. Begs those with hides to despise the friends that aid them. Visualize a place, in time without space, a visceral visage of the impotence of grace. Time can’t be replaced and each second we waste leaves me one step from the precipice, I disgrace and replace the shoelace that ties the binds behind my eyes and stops me from crying. Because we all die but some at different speeds, those monikers of before recede to me; the monster in my dreams.
-Devin M. Ott