The Problem: Grandiosity
I am the problem,
the squirrel cage,
with no
mathematic solution.
No matter
where I go, there I am
adding up two plus two
equals minus me.
The same me
staring
at the same me,
with more wrinkles
day by day, where
my furrowed brow
deepens tyring
like hell to solve
the mathematical
problem of me.
Doing the math
I know, a thousand
days of therapy
will not be a fix
and
no matter how swift
I be, or fast the train
moves between
points Z and Q
I always show up
where ever I have run
and equate myself to
minus one.
I am the lost one. The one
who’s chemical make up
will never be two plus two
equals 4.
I have days
that last weeks
and nights that
equal fractured
fractal’d coastlines,
where geometry
is full of suffocations
that bound my body
in seaweed
weighing me down
so the ocean’s waves
can repeatedly
eat me alive
and spit me out.
I lack the proper
equation of sweet
serotonin & dopamine.
For me, one down day
overwhelms a string
of twenty pearl-ish
satin days.
Two minus
me equals a negative
prime number on the
brink of black hole
collapsing into the
Santa Monica Bay.
Of late this makes
me weary to say
hello to strangers.
A missed placed
toxic shame
from which I
hesitate to invite
a sweet soul into
the tormented race
where the runner
that keeps running
turns out to be me.
Trying to catch
my breath, I
breathe the deep
breath of insignificance
in then out.
SBJ Studio 