1/4/93- Smoke

                                                  1/4/93
                                               Airborne
 
                                 Smoke
 
 A thought in a wisp, perhaps only a fear
 Genetic disappointment carried to another level
 To wonder why I cease to write, think, create
 
 feel
 
 Enough white noise ringing in my ears
 To clear a weeks work, veil of silence
 Point blank harmonics seem undeliberate
 And I think of the width of family history
 Grand scheme or not
 Biting into my shoulders only because I request the burden
 If love and lovemaking avail only as weapons
 Procreative acts to be banished by the wayside
 Or as rewards
 
 guilty slips
 
 The romantic ideal seems so foreign, inaccessible
 (In a place where ideals belong and go unvisited)
 I can feel the door opening, dread and excitement
 Preparation where instincts once ruled
 Sparks never needed a production meeting before
 Just good intentions, strong feelings and lust
 Curling behind a prop I am, the role confuses me:
                     
                     Friend, lover, animal;
                          
                         Bastard, saint;
 
                             Human.