Sometimes stardust is the enemy,

Smothering us in unrealizable desires,

Turning our imaginations into mere fantasy,

Beckoning us toward realms that we need not enter.

My cowardly legs run from potential heroism.

My soul stutters when it’s being interrogated.

I can’t make eye contact with myself.

I have to find a mirror that will lie to me

A priest that will forgive me

And a doctor who understands me

Otherwise the picadors of humility will pierce my thick skin

And I’ll have to listen to my lover

Shaun Day Wood

+ posts

• The Pond
• The Snow