I’m cynically spent on thoughts
produced as smolder.
they, looking down on me but still,
I’m feeling the warmth within.
I see that darkness of my view
is covering over this inner glow
and yet, there is the beauty of the burn.
it seems to churn on,
with or without me, for the way I think.
why to be this cold
as if I am a distant observation’s call?
seem torn to blurt out statements
from where I feel I am alone
yet still identifying with the heat
in spite, with this vanity
resulting from the stir of this, as emotionless cold.
sort of frozen in this, a standoff space,
but still in secret, knowing where is home.
some of these words are for spite,
to be said to hurl them out of me.
while other words call me out by their tone,
to know what I really truly heartfelt know.
how did I get so distant as myself, to myself,
when my habitat is heartthrob honed?
can I be love, that I am love, and once again,
pretend in this reality that I,
as the small of myself, do not know?
I want the truth but not in answers.
I want the truth of resolute
without the inward bickering.
who of me, who is always wanting,
will never be at home.
I don’t get it, given to me,
but receive from myself as if self-owned.
this two-way of self abuse in dialogue,
does offers of itself, as a refinement.
after all, I am a third party of aware,
featuring abuse into then, refined.
why is there, at times,
a need for high contrast of me, from inside?
this self-dialogue feels schizophrenic.
to unavoidably listen in
seems like so many inner voice options
that could speak.
some, to each other,
then get pitchy with anger and positions,
and I am fractured
but still every voice in there is me.
who, of the essence of me,
summons them, and then produces,
for what subsides?
that is who I am after,
for they know me more deeply
then reality and circumstance can pronounce
and eventually then can provide.
I am the spirit of the burn.
what else of me that matters,
is just kindling,
converted into light for this cause.
purpose is to blaze.
self love is to ignite it.
the beauty of the inner burn,
is a consciousness needed
to continually, in awareness,
yearn and churn . . .