Cursed be the memory that led me to you – it was an illusion

A trick of the mind which entered me like a toxic pollution

The pollinated air and well-trained disguise guided me by making me adaptive

Those allergies produced a cough and itch that’s prisoned me captive

How could I ever resist that infallible rose

A token of blossom laced with the protection of the thorns which are clothes

I’m cut by the tender clinch

Reminded yet again that everything we hold requires us not to flinch

A forged experience completely entwined by a complex tribe

If we only listened to the call of the shadows – Would this still be a bribe?

Now, I’m like a ghost wishing to belong to a world opposite of the dream

Steady longing for those sketches of empty frames which scream

Envisioning to be filled yet again with color and personality

The curse of belonging is a memory from the heart of commonality but not factuality