The threat of industry prompts retreat
And the golden net of family cuts deep
Pleasurable and grim, gritted with the truth of grief to come
Soon or later
Balled, uneven, quavering
Embedded in chest cavity
Distant guilt, close to home, anywhere in the world
Diplomatic invitations and procrastination
I shall carry this with me
Weightless as a leafs memory
Important as the wet lick of passion
Unsung, nothing obstructing it's pure being
These are the boundaries of my understanding
Because neither logic nor luncacy will help me here
Set me free or let me steer
I stand in one place and life moves around me
I puff pretty balls of hot air
I massage my conscience and placate myself with reason
But nothing else matters if when it matters I'm not there
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