The Iris

Can I remind you who you are at 3:35
Or are you even alive?
 
Potential is an ignored control complex
Subjected to our most vulnerable self
Yet we acknowledge practically everything else.
The damage
The glamour of being a comparison
The pressure of elevation
The strategic way of conforming to an absolute illusion
The intrusive connotations
The elation of what you can never seem to remember
Your hands clenching my shoulders in mid December
The longest winter
The emerald ring
Do you still mean everything if all you do is lie?
If I could just mention
The contradictions
From this position.
Things are quiet.
It just falls dead to silence.
It grows an iris.
Mercy is the scent.
Did you remember this?
 
What is the answer?
Living in a victim complex mentality
Where we dual verbally
Constantly
And you’re just onto me.

On the stage we dance.
It is slow.
A ticking clock.
How it makes my shoulder twitch
To which I remember
Mid-December.