Just a Touch

see me here,

a drifting anarchy

reclined in my inheritance

of loss and lust and shit

the tones, they swell

to reach a mythic optimism

that all will culminate

in something worth the wait

but still

I run from this expository

a brazen act of denial

doing it in style

for here

the symptoms are pronounced

and held up to the light

I cannot run, though I run

and missing still, the firmament

driving down the darkness

though darkness is its essence

and all that it contains

adrift

and ever listless

I rise in contempt

and stand, alone

until my legs grow tired

and I sit back down again