Pinecones

"... he knew he would face something inside himself that had been there for fifteen years, something dark and violent and troubling."
 - Richard Montanari

The swirls on the bottom of a pinecone have
Captivated his tumultuous layers of
Shame and guilt and self- devaluation
All with eyes connected to the cement

How could he have bent his knee and
Lowered his greasy head
Surrendering to his dark compulsions
But then how could he not have given in

His perversions have grown into being gloomy and violent
Troubled inner peace swirling
The best of him circling clockwise and the worst counterclockwise

A tight combination making separation
A complex problem that looks so simple
Emotions building on thoughts
Explanting with sensations burning up within

Just like a pinecone with its pedals swirled and stacked into a
Cohesive beautiful display of chaos within

A whirling chaos that confuses yet makes sense in distorted ways
Darkest closest to the center just like the pinecones
With its tough almost wood like pedals
Creating both light and dark
Subtle influence as it blends into his core

But mirth still lived and he often reached toward connection and love
Building a place to find sanctuary from the shadows
Relentlessly searching to consume all good he clings to