Angling

This hole in my breast Hollowed out by the pointless drilling of empty thoughts that go nowhere and lead to nothing. Shapes dance before my eyes Ghosts from a stolen moment Wraiths of smoke and cold air Echoing the cradle, heralding the grave. It feels like I'm walking over broken glass Shoeless and without direction Going round in circles upon broken glass My life. My life is this, A slow crucifixion Screws in place of nails, A slow churning and grafting into meat. I, unwilling messiah Must bear the brunt of sins Trussed upon me by the sinful Trussed upon me by those that came before Slammed the door of hope in my face Left me cold, scalded and blinded in the dark Of their failed hopes and stunted dreams. This hole in my heart Is my humanity; It defines me And makes me definite. Carlos