By Christopher Rupley and Patience


My head is a

place where twisted

roads live,

and the signs that

line the freeway

in my mind all

have question marks


and ellipses,

dots out into nowhere

alongside arrows,

pointing in circles


And yet I keep walking,

stopping for directions,

and trying to read

these capricious signs


Their mockery

doesn’t impress me,

their utter disregard

for the paths I take,

instead concerning

themselves with arbitrary


cold commands

and their willingness

to control the steps I take


Don’t they realize

that their confusing instructions

and backwards navigation

is nothing but fog and clutter?

That these accusatory rules

rest only on my willingness to follow?

Don’t they see

how I choose

not with my feet,

not with my brain,

or the signs along the way,

but instead,

I use my heart to guide me away

from the darkness?


© Christopher Rupley and Patience


(This is another fantastic poem written with an even more fantastic person, Patience. Please make an effort to check out the rest of her work by visiting Patience).



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