//Beyond//

I do sit to write up
my future
with a few strokes on the white
and over leaf 
where you always descend upon
as a distorting image
questioning a faith
over mind 
over matter
over the year long exercise
over an image
I’m n’t able to draw as mine

you always 
crawl at my faithful essence.

then my clock tickles 
in your throbbing heart
sickening whatever 
as my tranquility


I don’t rely on my words
Which once promised me a pyramid?
I don’t rely on my pen or my fingers
Who always drag me towards you.
 

Are they all made to serve you?