the maelstrom of my youth

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the maelstrom of my youth betides
devastating the freshly poured concrete
i lay as a foundation, an attempt
at growing up and becoming wiser,
neglecting apathy, omitting dramatics–
unlearning the beauty in melancholy,

because all i really want
is some place to call home.
even if that home was only
empty wine bottle sculptures
garnishing our shoebox residence.

the maelstrom of my youth betides
devastating the freshly poured concrete
i lay as a boulevard out of its quarters,
as an attempt to outgrow and egress
this irrational blind apathetic love
and more into something more stable,

because all i really want
is sturdy ground out of these circles.
but then, i’ve learned
pouring a sidewalk to walk away on
is not the same as paving a life path.