Written by James Christopher Sheppard
scarred into skin.
of the poorest people,
hidden under floorboards
of Surrey’s suburbia
into every fibre and every tell
of my eye.
No flick of light glistens
or reflects the same way,
for every observer
The height, t h e d i s t a n c e ,
the speed of the racing heart,
the size of the engorged erection,
the price paid for
company and irreplaceable time.
All are relative and change perception
remains an unaltered truth.
The inescapable identity can be masked
but never denied
with clear conscience.
Now here and everywhere
I try to absorb
every image and breeze before me
but neither make their dent.
To be free
of this body and to be carried through the air,
as dust, by a breeze
is both destiny and a dream.
Free from aches and pains and a sore back,
free from discomfort and suffering.
To just be Free from your perception and judgment