High Altitude

In my mind there is a place

so drowned by the heavy fabric

that it sags the side of my face

into what is so easily mistaken

for a smile.

In my soul there is a tree

that grounds its roots to the sky

and its arms into the dark sea

of the cold

and bitter

earth.

In my heart there is a room

without a door, and without

an unpleasant loom but...

there are no chairs there.

It is rare for one to enter

and decide to stay long,

the walls were sewn together

with nothing but bricks and stones

this is perceived as "leave me the fuck alone"

but all it wants is to say:

"here, you can have my bones

take up residence in my hardened walls

and I will take up your pains...

I will wear your chains."

What's not easy is the expression

it's all about blood and guts

and living out your session,

your time allotted to try

not to fail.

You feel just as frail as

a thread on barbed wire,

you can't stop,

lest you'll surely tire,

but there are

scars everywhere.