Autobiographical Poem - 8:08

eight oh eight, it's difficult for me to contemplate
knots in my neck, elbows sore
i can't get this stench out of my core

if uncomfortable was a slight, sought after, subdued and sublimed surprise
what more am i looking for

eight oh eight, it's easy to cast this all as fate
i can think, get me away from this place
concrete walls, painted and understated
perspiration, deeply penetrated and permanently imbedded

noises of noises, i can hear the clash and the scratch and the stomp and the crack
but at five oh five what more did i ask for

if i had key to lock all my insecurities i would wear it around my neck
labeled yet i am not ready to share it
publicly fabled
we are all caught up, quick to prove
expectations improvisations
slow to speak the truth
when did i become so tame
wasn't I seemingly bold, able to declare, confident enough to bare

eyes closed, minds shut
afraid
unafraid
im getting up
toes curled
feet first
out my bed

This is a poem I wrote (early in the morning ;) when I was living in Myra Village, a rural village in South Africa. It was written in my journal on November 21, 2004, my first few weeks there.
Here is an accompanying side note I found at the bottom of the page,
"It was 8:08 am, the rain was pouring outside, I had deep pains in my stomach, I was over walking outside to shit. My bucket was right there. Thank God for the lid." - joy