My Country, Again

airport beams
haunt my dreams
in memories produced,
so it seems

sticky, like cobwebs
in fingertip ridges
waiting to burn
fear’s bridges

sleepless nights and
dawn less days;
mistress covered eyes
in haze

doubting the road; the
path decided
chanting fear
constantly recited

which to
pick among the
doors

let me through and
see what game is
to be true

let the fires drain
and forget
my human pain

sink me,
universe coma, to
re-awake my born right of
paranoia