Poem: Repeated Means

Today, he considers the world beyond his door.

He considers crossing the threshold, to a land of imitation, where he will see shattered glass ghosts drifting in skyscraper screens, arms length from a touch

where he accepts he must feed his sick inclination, borne of blood and confusion

and Strawberry Fields that end too soon,

as he sleepwalks through an upside down dream, a backwards day

and a topsy turvy night; hopeful for a moment that will seldom come,

because all the world may be a stage, but the world won’t fill his void

without a prayer of self confidence.

He will open up his soul bright and wide and alive,

bare it for the giants to see, hoping for their approval. Maybe

just this one time they will wrap their arms around him,

and promise to keep him as safe as he keeps them

because they may love him as he loves them. But of course, this has never happened,

so he decides for himself,

today, he would prefer the world behind his door.