the radical self
loves itself into
distraction from what
it needs to hate

the radical self
loves itself into
comfort with ideas
it needs to spit out

the radical self
puts itself into
positions from which
it needs to escape

the radical self
leaves itself no room
to pull away and twist
when it needs to change

I have been a radical self
who put himself into
a cage with his animated
need for validation

I have been radical
and eaten at myself over
the contradictions I embraced
when I needed to just stop

this once radical self
loves nothing completely
and is safer now
I like what I am well enough to know

when to hate myself

Some mythology was made to order
for me, some was not.  I won’t hold myself back
when I come to the border

between these; instead, I cross.
I’m an ignorant bastard mostly
so it’s not a graceful passage. I toss

my baggage over the wall
so I have everything, then drag
my privileged carcass over. At once, I feel small.

Short of that, though, I’m game to see
what’s what though I don’t yet know where this is
or how it gets along without me.