I didn’t ask for this,
exquisite bliss,
a masochist,
inhibited by facts,
or this
fiction I create
is limitless.
A tragic twist;
these were words
that I used as a catalyst.
I never knew you,
never proved to
be what I had promised.
Just another lie,
another slight of hand,
another trick
sought on demand.
I defied all of it
and never lost my wits.
I’m a conundrum,
past this plastic
pathetic humdrum.
Maybe someone
can hear me
clearly, I have reached the bottom
of this sea of consciousness
I’m lost in never ending conflicts,
contradicting all I ever said
with actions that acquit.
I’m baseless now,
faceless,
make this out
to be my final great denounce
from all the subtle struggles
I have muddled through
escapist clouds.
Denied the inside,
never thought my pride
would make my case,
it counts
my days,
my numbers,
one by one
I’ve slumbered
only waking
to be shunned
by life
and everyone,
but never holding close
to what I’ve chosen.
I’m the only son
of a world that bred insanity
so plainly framed in every dawn.
What has it cost me?
I’ve been lost
and falsely
tossed aside,
then raised up lofty.
Lines of a mind accosted,
all we see
are shadows of our bodies.
Reflections of what we want
to be,
adult with child’s eyes.
Denied the truth,
because it’s costly.
Burned by fired that left us this
and once again
we find new flesh to covet.
All of it,
a trap,
a snare
of soft and fertile comfort.
How I wonder
what we night be
inside and under
that soft skin we’re in.
The sin begins
to beggar our discovering.
So mad,
so long,
so what?
I’m making it all up
as I fumble along,
more trouble than I’m taught
to haul along.
Every word is golden,
grip is strong;
I’m holding on.
HG – 2016
