Not Quite a Victim

My own worst enemy..

The dull ache of uncertainty permeates

every thought and decision and perception

it feeds a sickness that wells up inside

a mass of doubt and pain too strong to ignore

hardly a moment passes without reflection

the black and white of memory cannot comfort me

the simple wound of loss has no cure

either the past will weigh you down

or the present will lift you up

their is no clarity in my consciousness

the slow dripping of seconds

down the drain of the inevitable

do I want what I know?

or do I know what I want?

the progress that drives me

eludes me

I am complicit to the crimes of my undoing

without innocence but void of motive

a coward and a victim both

resisting change and rejecting the familiar

caught in the middle of then and now

the dull ache of uncertainty

feeding a sickness inside