Human Wreckage (Part 5)

I am left with the human wreckage of my life, My baggage of bones and clutter, spectres and desire To slaver around and haunt me until it ends. To look back is pain, to look forward is fear and to Stand still is not an option. I am the pilot of the Cessna and the Cessna is my Existence; to crash and burn is my prophecy And my destiny. At times I will continue to do both, All the while missing you, missing us and missing me. What I was, I grieve for, what I could have been Bereaves me and what I am…what I am saddens me Beyond expression. I can’t walk out on this feeling, Alone in no man’s land with just a Rorschach phrase book Translated by a dysphasic internal language, A salad of gestures and noiseless slang not even I, The architect of such communiqués can understand. And still, in the reverberating chambers of this half-life, This captivity, I love you, for there is nothing else I can do. I love you…beyond expression, And, in spite of heaven’s sake, it Can never profess To be enough… Such love is terminal, over, Out?