closed off, cease candor, delusions of grandeur
to everyone but you, Online Person; because that's your name,
as far as we're both concerned.

this in mind, consider me an open PDF, buried on page ten
of your favourite search engine
hallowed ground, that is.

[not an open book, those are honest and available to everybody who cares to look]

by the time you get to page ten
you've strayed from the path of relevancy
but the results pique pointless curiosity -
partly privy to my pathetic plateau.

and even my brothers are not in the know.

no man's land:
a healthy dose of could-be-worse
for the idiot who equates
the quotidian
to the epicenter of a war.

a special place in hell
for people
who ask for advice
that they can toss
over their shoulder
like a dying cigarette:
instant, capricious gratification.
in hindsight, he shouldn't have cared
for what his friends thought.

like me, perfect role model:
as in control as a truck with faulty brakes
as much fun as falling asleep at a wake
as resilient as a fibreglass dream.

sees the situation that awaits
around the corner
in the alley
that pulses with pathetic light.

cowers
runs
cries
says:
"i wish my skin was as thick as my skull"
and immediately, immovably, refuses to change.

Funny, really, how we
All refer to love and practical jokes,
Broaching the subjects from the same angle.
Referencing both the feeling and the prank,
I lament: "I fell for it/I fell for her",
Concerning the lies I've been told,
About the playful manipulation of truth.
Tall tales told to exploit one's trust.
Eccentric bedfellows, if you ask me.

Though, at least the infamous 'prank',
Has the integrity and the courage to
Enter the frame without a pretty facade.

Graced with either, I'd choose falling for a joke
Over falling for another human being, because
One is light-hearted, and the other
Deigns to light this heart afire.

Audrey is adopted,
She feels quite out of place,
In a house of strangers,
Affections go to waste.

Audrey cloaked in twilight,
With one foot in the grave,
"We'll send you to another home
If you do not behave."

Audrey wanders offwards,
Into the milky way,
Of cardboard homes and foreign tomes,
To find a place to stay.

Audrey misses long hair,
And so I'm here to fill,
The hole left by her sisters,
Who left against their will.

Audrey has no option,
But sleeping on the ground,
Deep inside our foster house,
While Mother's not around.

Audrey is adopted,
She's feeling all alone,
She's taken herself for a walk;
I hope she comes back home.

for the plenty that proffer
"write what you know"
i'll have you know
i don't know much

pursuantly, here is my poem:

...

"ha-.... haiKU", says he,
who has just sneezed violently.
Poetry is sick.

i got lost
in the library
to think my time was wasted
or rather - borrowed
and left by the orphaned paperbacks
like the last dog remaining
at the rescue shelter.

i got stalked
in the library
to think i worried
about finding cover
when, in fact, i found thousands

and i hid behind them
skipping through
hospital wards
where the bereaved
wore glistening plot armour,
and American homes
where paternal affection
was grievously mistook
by European men
with lyrical prose

and when i emerged
found my bearings
set my feet
in the tar of reality
it did not treat me kindly

so, to the librarian:
if i disappear again
please assume i'm safe and sound
because if this is what being lost is like
i'd rather not be found.