Quickening, I feel
Chrome-plated veins- now tested.
This is challenge here,
Confronting, canines bared.
Do I look and then lean in...?
Licking fangs that threaten to puncture and drain me?
Or crawl away feebly in reverse
Slapping my senses as they beg to push-on
Steed-like in their stature.
Grotesque to grovel away, defeated
At 38, I have collected many battle scars,
Eaten my experiences, chewing them to great length
Expecting to anticipate the return of what's been learned
...and the timing to chime on queue.
This life is a battle-zone.
Fought for victory, defeat, victory, retreat...
Cleaning old wounds that ooze when memories ripen
Vindication dies down and Pyrrhic conquering buckles.
I am encased in my diary of 'Done'.
Strategy now beckons with a new voice
To linger longer with the tablets of 'Think Twice'.
The dagger swung in the dark fueled by adrenalin
Yields more than a hefty slice to any foe
It can pierce greater enemies that trigger much worse
Inflicting irreparable damage within strata upon strata
Of what may have been left, unaccounted for.
Triggering 'regret' is a foolish mistake
A long-haunted Mistress that will gnaw like no other
Sanity is far too precious a countenance
To barter with juvenile conclusions that punch on impulse.
Nearing the end of my third decade in,
I wish to reign in on that 'untouchable' fighter.
To pet with compassion and relearn a few things...
I retain my youth in other ways,
After all, 'Hope' springs eternal
In the background of any play.
I am weary from my travels, though yet undefeated
Sometimes the win was detrimental to my cause
But necessary nonetheless.
I remember now as often as I can to caution my moves
To whittle away at primary motives,
In the event I may uncover something-
The devilish child lives in me yet
The lurking wish to delve into hysteria;
Cascading mirth brought on by 'living dangerously'
They are too far behind me now
Memories I hold dear that when recanted,
Spatter and hiss for some tangible tie to the 'now'.
I look back but for a moment, smiling, wise with age.
I can no longer afford such meaningless game play
Mine is a history of violence
That through right-handed manipulation,
I tinkered enough to fan-out the pain
Begging the mirror to show signs of forgiveness.
The remedy of seeking 'no-reflection' grows tired.
I peer in now and long for kindness...
To Love and be Loved, by the self that I am.
Though my past would have me aged and cane-bound
I attempt to find peace but not by vein of boredom
To travel on with confidence and less abuse
From the battle-zone of 'I'
The Lover & The Fighter; contained.