I'm a hypocrite,
But not as bad as one as you
You brought yourself as low as the people you talk about
Does the taste of their lowlyness taste good to you?
Let me rephrase,
Does the taste of their lowlyness feel good in your heart?
I didn't think so
But you say it like you do
Who are you?
You are whom?
**The people you talk about, *boo

His eyes penetrate the mirror,
And the glass penetrates him back.
Tears rain down his cheeks,
And his semblance undergoes a crack.

His head hits the pillow,
His eyelashes flutter along to dreams.
Mother watches with weepy eyes,
Then sunlight through the window beams.

His heart flutters like a leaf in a breeze,
Excited by the man before his eyes.
For years he has struggled
With this affection he was taught to despise.

Even as his heart tells him what to do,
The boy continues to hide his truth.
It seems there is much to lose,
It seems a way to ruin his youth.

But the secret ails him—
A condition untreated.
Without exploration,
His heart remains defeated.

Destruction clasps onto him, an iron grip,
And his demons come alive.
He begins to hate himself,
Struggling to survive.

Hatred finds him during his adolescence—
Like a deadly blade wishing him dead.
To survive, he learns a simple truth—
His beliefs must be shed.

Now a cloak of happiness hangs from his shoulders—
His boyfriend is in his arms.
He has parted with society’s silly notions,
Of which only dealt him harm.

To: Present*

You're walking a part of the road I left far behind

One more day
One more chance
Say the word and we'll have this dance

His morning sun just cracks awake,
up an at 'em she crows happily,
looking down on him gawking,
so cozy in that lazy plush bed,
while soft yellow lush sunshine,
says "wake up you sleepyhead"
as she rests easy on his shoulder,
as it blazes through,
and her fury getting bolder
burning holes in his tired brain,
and yeah it does make him happy,
sometimes regardless,

Of where and when,
all things same or not,
save for presently,
this sunshine is burning hot,
where he sits pensive,
in this melancholy morn,
as that sunshine is trying,
her heart it must be torn,
and in her torrid,
and dear desperation,
in a friendzy guy kinda way,
acting crazy just to stick around,
just a chance to have him,
take a grasp the bright,

And shiny illusion she's trying,
to force on him -
molesting his memories,
caressing with spindled refractions,
offerings of her warmth to shade,
truth slipping through,
the complex damage,
created rifts maze his mind puzzled,

Faulty places they say,
probably weakly built with no real,
chance of a brighter day,
no access to better materials,
some doubt his sincerity,
maybe it's just his way,
flawed in creation possibly,
fractured by grievous trauma,
definitely he's affected though,
by the endless seaming drama

What could it be this haunting,
an unbearable long buried truth,
to uncover it to daunting,
or perhaps a recently breached,
mausoleum of memories,
was looted in hate forming,

That creature lurks behind corners,
sneaks up to scare even the bejesus,
tapping him on his shoulder,
softly darting away and back,
eyes BULGE like he's looking at money,
or high on his other white lady,

Light now curving,
becoming more seductive as the day pains,
in the tempting sun's light,
remaining and creating,
a silky dark silhouette,
moving in a lovely shape,
in a shape shifting pirouette,

Beautiful dark ebony woman,
shadows form enchantresses,
sirens in traces of old wolf,
grey skies drift in the air,
of smoking cigarettes and ****,
an he's high flying too on these,
as nicotine-stained tongues burn,
wishing for the night,
his heart will always yearn,

Before he's feasting heavy,
being a glutton for punishment,
savoring thoughts on what never was,
as his alter ego now dances,
seductively for her daylight,

In an iota of darkness expanding,
blots and traces of ink stained,
hearts with crackling finish,
pigments revolving and rotating,
a ghostly apparition appears,
diluting the light forever,
and alleviating any fears,

Terrified though he is so still,
it looked so nice outside,
and now it seems she's broken,
down his only needed will,
who could have known this,
everyone is about their day,
he's so haunted and alone,
an that shiny lady has gone away,
as this heavenly highwayman,
has come to find a home,
a real menacing spector of yesterday,
just takes completely over,

He realizes and submits,
to the possession of his body,
forever becoming his shadow,
to wear it well that's too gaudy,
better to be who you were -once,
than nothing at all,
he figures looking into the mirror,
at his new "normal"
and gratefully bowing down,
to the cold truth of his life.

Ma Cherie  © 2017

What if you were the carpenter?
who'd be the lady?
oh baby
I hear what you say
let me lay in
your sweet arms.

I bend branches in pursuit of nostalgia

I collect glances like a glass jar habitat

They light tiny spaces

while a lack of oxygen conspires the *****

No mercy in a world where free will falters

A childish curiosity killed the glow
A Steady display now dim and stuttered
A momentary depression on discovery

Curbside funeral

resigned for the sake of memory

Ponder patterns weaved by a concrete choked charade

We have what we need but hurry for another anxiety

institutions for conclusion fall short under an indifferent heaven

Conviction reassembles

stationery like statuary

human conditions climb the clutter

Your centuries were numerous

Now contained with disdain inside cardboard cutouts

The dusk dances and shade shifts

Under muted skies

Stagnant shadows elongate

Derelict distinction now a contorted silhouette

ridiculous renditions conspire another fiction

We scream for clarity with clinched jaw

The old heads sell distraction

Different prints and different licks

Concrete beds display the newest fashion

Pick them hearty while declaring  dysfunction

Beam another bystander towards  electro shock

Tastefully tenacious in it's rearranging

Bars for consumption

The eyes suggest cancellation

Now you declare this space fit for sanity

Now I crumble for chaos

Displaced for a momentary diplomacy

but lines blur inside a mind prone to wandering

Remnants gather for a pre shatter shindig

A bright glow illuminates conviction

How coy these means for destruction

a shell claiming stability

a vessel containing absurdity

Crack seat sofa with the medical magazines

Wait on a number for my neutral reckoning  

Diagnostics come free

A proper requiem is not included

Madness proves timeless

A fun house complex for the blitzkrieg

ticking my clockwork with an organic benevolence

It echoes nonsense

a pinball malfunction

Deafening in spaces fully saturated with silence

Don't bother with the pleasantries

My disappointment is not rooted in your confusion

More so inside this pine box called home

inside these ghosts so composed

Hardwood floors and wanting walls

Made bare by minds unable to sow a silver lining

The fruit strip wallpaper lacks a ***** Wonka ingenuity

I gag and smile for the Wilder man now sky strapped

Don't look for a cohesive culture

I retired them with the rest of my favorite functions

they always proved elusive and I always moved nothing

In need of a constant state of awe

No virtual vulture can swoon and pick the best wonder

Common ground under dead satellite sky

A trusted system as we ascend

Cosmic cluttered hibernation for your despondency

A distant sigh suggest no clear conclusion

An earthly scene repeats

slow blue with the newest gizmo

Conflict always comes

What's your remedy?

Where's your memory?

claim another sunset like we still move between black and white wonders

grab another sequence because the last one needs conviction

I needed this room for composure

I needed a stranger way for clarity

Somehow I ended up here with you and these contorted spaces

This lack of grace you convey is the reason I left earth in the first place