cold metal  

i knew it all too well

the choices

and absolute inescapability of one option taking over the other

as cold as any metallic part could ever be

sure some would call it psychosis but then again what else is there?

a lie, elusive middle, the in-between

in reality constant swaying from one side to the other.

psychotic is all there is

psychotic is all we are

some embrace it while others hide in the shadows

and I chose not to hide

I chose in

I chose on

I chose fire

I chose action and direct execution

no surprises

unless the script she planted inside me that warm night on the roof has some functions she did not mention

I need to see the man