Abrasion

My life is a loose translation 
Barely read, rarely understood 
And sits, with an air of years spent 
Suspended between two strokes
Of a broken down pendulum 
Ages have passed undivided
A single line, perpetually drawn
Getting thin and thinner 
Till the Parallax Error
Caters for my silence 
At the center of my heart
And I am able to remember 
The taste of my first breath
The warmth of my first touch 
The colour of my first view
All amounting to nothing much

I submit to the auguries made about me
By people who claim to know
When the leaves of a tree in the autumn would fall
And when the sun would melt the snow

Fire in the birdcage 
Would the wings be able to save?
Can feathers and the flame
Be the same
Can the ashes for once be brave?

I humour the dinner table
My hands carefully caressing 
The cold, silver cutlery 
And my words
Churning in my mouth with the morsels 
Breaking down
With every bite, with every conversation
Leaves a taste
Something lingering upon the tongue
They watch me as I listen 
They listen as I watch 
The thin sound, going around 
A tiptoeing whisper 
Toeing a line;
I am known to these strangers 
I am shared and savoured 
Wound licked with salt
I am a pariah and thus favoured 

Long into the night
I stare at my soul
Standing by the window 
Stitching itself whole
And the night breeze is painting 
And the dark woods; they dream
Only the blind sky is witness 
As I thread down my scream