Hindrance of my Mind

Your sleep lies here holding my loving embrace.
Holding the embrace meant for a memory,
but I do not refuse the tender warmth radiating
from your pure bliss.

I was once a prisoner to my tattered speech,
to the ambiguity that I once latched onto
with the crippled hands of a weak invader.
The one that sleeps in arms of words once dear
without a care of the repercussions soon to be faced.

Now, however, I am the energy by which you thrive,
no longer a contagious plague of mysterious meaning,
no long a severe contradiction in animated motion
I am the hyperactive fatigue clasping onto a dearest allusion,
that of your sweet slumber.

I dream of the warms days that my pen scratched into ivory pages
the days that my legacy was established and I could rest softly,
rest in your incantations of comfort and breath.
The once flourishing blood in my veins is yet stimulated less,
stimulated in such a trembling satisfaction
that such sweet comfort reaches my tired cerebrum.

I cannot bear to escape your warmth.
You engulf me in such a way that words mean nothing
and I uncaringly accept,
so that you allow me to remain safe.

The most satisfying coveted gift is that which I cannot escape.
That which I have no wish to escape.
Your encumbrance of my being belongs to the space and time in which
insomnia was my keeper.
Those instances when my mouth beget words
when those words were looked upon with mercy by the blue eyes
that mattered most.
You are the sole proprietor of my existence,
and the paper by which my existence is transcribed.

You are my tyrant.
Controlling the blood flow to my weakened muscles and
limiting my mobility to the epicenter of your being
restricting me within a loving obstruction that exists
in that which you intend to destroy.