Alive

I took a break from beauty,
Wrote in lines and numbers, numb
To pretty poetries while
Fallacies subsided and space got wider, numb
To posh appeals for any more than silence; I leapt
Into a different kind of fire, frightened I
Would not
Rise
Alive.

Hushed or cold by lack of crazy, days made calm, dull, and hazy—willed
un-wild and nights no longer
devastating—
All despite the writhing aching, cutting,
carving out a promise
in a future conscious; cognizant
of the feel of fearing
normalcy; a great relief that I

was right:
Alive is just a lack of trying.
(Calmness is the lie.)

by JAE JAE

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