A Wishing Well

Potent thoughts
playing at mixing metaphors
with proverbs
under a twilight sun.

To pretend to be other than myself
would result in a poorly made tapestry,
when all I wish is to spin a tale,
talking of truth
and many more convenient lies.

Murky water filled with grains,
possible versions flitting in the light
as I hope
just hope to be true
and...

The problem is that I deny joy
or wish for pain
it is my place here,
within the shadows
where I am forced to parlay.

The memories,
facades playing out on the wall
are my weakness,
these simulated
and faltering caricatures.

I have pain as my drug
but I am never coming down
because of the sin.

I can't pretend these rusted coins matter
because they are my memories,
flickers of shiny metal
in red light
as everything fades from view.

All opinions
deep thoughts
that make me want to scream
because I want to stop
and no longer feel.

I just do not understand.
It doesn't process
and sadly
I can only lie
just a bit more.

I thought I knew.
I swore I understood.
But the times have changed
and everything
has been pulled out
and I am falling,
wind in my hair
arms out
as I pray
seeking,
looking,
hoping,
for whatever may
just may be.