Enemies

Oh hey, I am not everyone
And I really hate the coldness in me
But most of all my hesitancy
And I’m making peace with my enemies
Being my enemies – not all can be friends
Especially those holding pointed spears.
Am I one of them?
I feel a line has been drawn
And I’m on one side,
And so many that I
Have been close to wound up across somehow
So I stare out, asking myself
What did I do to put us at odds?
What is there thriving inside of you
That aims with a hatred so sharply at me?
I’ve got a good feeling
For affinity,
If it exists or if there is friction.
We’ve wrapped our words around in so many ways
But my face remains my face.
Brick red doesn’t mesh with cerulean blue,
But I, from my dress, admire you.
Why did my enemies have to be
The ones I once held so dearly?
Or am I paranoid,
Living under the sea,
Imagining these spears pointed at me?
I come back to this vision
Best seen without eyes.
Try do deny and say that I
Am just being silly, and where is the proof?
Only a feeling? Is that enough?
Haven’t my feelings been wrong before?
But my gut tells me where the landmines are.
I see more clearly if I shut my eyes
And walk the terrain of the underworld,
If it exists or is only fiction.

05/17/11