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Saturday, March 21, 2026

Enough To Prove My Worth

Enough To Prove My Worth
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Leaves of books whisper in soft river breeze 
where oak leaves flutter lightly on my chest, 
unpatterned spread of limbs rewinding time 
at random turn of bright arrogant clouds 
concerned that I am not earning my pay 
enough to prove my worth in Kingdom Come. 

Rain patters lightly on still-open book 
in silver drops that smudge names of the dead 
and smear their tales of sorrow on blank page 
concerned that fate is based random chance 
because I am programmed to make each choice 
that defines galvanized laughter of death. 

Dazzled by sudden light in web of limbs, 
I try to befriend strangers in the park 
whose clean shoes are plastered with rain-wet leaves 
but they would give me crystal lithium 
to register days of straight unsure rain 
with relentless observation of eyes. 

Digressive immediacy, rendered moot 
by accurate diagnosis of love, 
crescendos erratic patterns contrived 
by daily notes about strange incidents 
clever readers glean from clandestine clues 
when we dismantle truths we long hold dear. 

Oblique performance of flirtatious care, 
disguised by shy alertness off lit stage, 
reveals vulnerable feelings we might share, 
though disclosures conceal beauty of life 
that vex my heart with irrational calm 
based on discipline of ironic faith. 

To reconcile sensible tone of spells, 
carved by bloody blades on trunks of old oaks, 
I record painful distinction of change 
between obsessive states of mindless fear, 
when my father presses foot on my chest 
to drown me in gushing river of change. 

Banalities of everyday routines 
invite reality to fool my heart 
with grand delusions of poisonous fame, 
so I employ false narrative account 
as vehicle for confession that I 
transmute despair into beautiful jokes. 

Dining out together on Friday night 
in glass cathedral of excessive faith, 
we articulate strange exquisite truth 
about how rain and leaves will lightly fall 
on soft uncovered skin of psychic soul 
with unforced flow of wordless dreams we share. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus visits James Schuyler in the mental hospital where they just sit together at the metal table by the window and stare at rain drops on glass.

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