ESCAPING THROUGH THE CEILING
Up and away is my motto; upwardly mobile is my goal. If I can flee without leaving a track, I’m clean. No heart-wrenching walk down the aisle or the lane. No dust on my shoes. No possibility of stumbling. Grace at all cost. Empowerment through elevation. If I must leave my human plane to attain this, so be it. Give up my natural rights, such is life. But, yet, if I lose my bonds to earth what did the leaving gain me? I arise to appear better; as a result, I appear not at all.
Hold your hand then touch your face.
Perfectionism is a cover,
a blanket of lead;
hard to move and rich with poison.
What it tries to hide
is my unwillingness to struggle and strive.
It’s not a fear of failure,
but the horror of success after a long hot pursuit.
If I can stall on the intricacies of the first move
there is no further movement.
If I can fail before I begin
there is no sweat, no stain, no stink.
Catastrophe is no bother,
but skinned knees are my undoing.
Winning is not so important to me;
my unfortunate goal is to look untroubled.