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Escaping through the Ceiling


April 24





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.