The wringing of hands
Over the slipping of sands
As the hourglass pours
Through open doors 
And claims to know a shape
I watched the prism escape
From the bounds of the light
Refracted into colour that split the fight
In me into seven hues 
A splintered version of paying my dues
As they break my back
With the things that they lack
Always hitting me with the weight as it goes slack
And telling me they do it “for my own good” 
As if being lost in the wood
Was a bad thing or even a choice
Do you know how to silence a voice
With your noise and your din
And I hung up the phone on him 
When he said goodbye 
I know you’ll die
Someday, somewhere
And I can’t find the will to care
They way you want me to 
So I sacrifice what I had with you
And let the wolves take me
You call me fake, we 
Fight on the line
And I say this is the last time
I’ll ever give you access
To that particular spin on my praxis 
Of indelible truth 
And they venerate truth
Because it seems far from the sea
But I live the eternity
Of the present Now
They tell me I must compromise somehow
So I cut them loose
And hang from the dial of my own truth

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