that they is you

that they is you.

startled, the eventfulness of this

came and went.

and I, as a spectator 

survived to remember the impact reaction.

experience is just that, of a constant reminder.

and so I march through words as my wardrobe,

pronunciants and declaratives advancing.

in my mind, it exists as a hybrid of

a warzone in search of words, 

hiding their weapons of meaning

and a parade in the night of inwardly spoken.

so as to not accidentally 

blow out the candle before me.

and there, in that cross action

of outer world symbology

and inner world fury,

I dismally understand.

wanting my desires to have arms 

that reach out of frame into fulfillment.

but every want is only an out-breath, 

as a slight of dismemberment. 

some where within me, falling out of frame.

there is infinitesimal emotional movement.

motion asking to be my solid ground. 

asking for a dimensional uprise to occur.

and all I get back in a blanketing response,

so to say is,

that they is actually you.

that they is already deeply within you . . .