twisting regularity

it’s never three

when he says it’s three

it’s not quite three

or maybe later than usual

sleeping under covers

warm under clouds

confusion erased

when days first light

illuminates even the cloudiest days

somehow gets bright when

first light comes close

still in their own head guarded

against all odds

from silence to live on center stage

for those who want

to expel loneliness

even if only for a week

better than two years of silence

but somehow it all seems to happen

for reasons unknown

to anyone even those involved

can’t answer the question posed

why??

one word should be simple

a twist of regularity

makes it something different

and hard as concrete

the answer is liquid

and runs out of the hand

when trying to pick it up

at the end of the day

exhausted from the walk upstairs

or down from high above

the mind contorted

and not even realizing the time

and now it’s most definitely

close to four but he never really knows

and all of this is only a guess

which side he is on is never known for sure

finding security in freedom

he works hard to keep the mind

completely liberated…