The common facade portrayed
by the majority of people
tends to be a **** poor
way of dealing with pain.

You know what I mean.

That mask that people don
as if it will save them,
save you,
from endless misery.

It doesn’t have to be this way-
It’s 3:06 A.M. And I can’t sleep,

****.

Propellers of propaganda participate
dubiously within the American diaspora.
Depending on the angle taken, pushing
and or pulling a particular group of people
towards some penultimate 'prize.'

Believe this or that they say, but there are
two sides to every tale. Truthfully
I don't, or can't, know the truth. And
thus, truthfulness becomes a travesty
to me.

When media misinforms
and the TV tells trickeries
and schooling is suppressed-
supposedly we are
'Making America Great Again'

But truthfully?
I doubt it.

Clumsily, cluelessly, capriciously;
Varying walks of life, and such varied
ways of walking. Crawling and or quickly-
they advance through the concrete corridors.

~Completely unaware of the outside world
or anything other than themselves, for that matter.~

The issue lies in the wanting of more.
I've not much left to give and I'm sickly
'cause everybody's got their friends-big leagues.
From me to you, its not simple. Like harried
marriage; marred and probably charred, but

this is war-
~extra judiciously~

The totality of it; lost,
upon the moment we awake-
from the permafrost that is sleep
though this is only one take.

It must be a mistake, opaque
lies commandeered; drowned us
in our beds, downy lips have let
it slip-The truth? I hardly know her.

Moreover, when we castigate
our offspring, the ones we love the most,
we have castrated their minds at best-
at worst, the fires of hate, we've stoked.

So next time that you blame the youth
whose marble towers we've destroyed.
Ponder protractedly the ways
in which this outcome, you would avoid.

It’s not easy,
But not that hard.
Nor that simple,
Or that odd-

The craveable nature
of it
appears to be a human one,
though

It's not easy,
But not that hard.
Nor that simple,
or that odd-

Generally speaking: Passion
is hot
and calculations
are cold,

~If things stay repetitive,
Then how can life be worth living?~

It might be easy;
Perchance it be hard,
It could be simple
and it should be odd.

Move quickly-
silently-
breathlessly:
Rage steadfastly
against the man,
the machine that
churns you
out into this world.

**** each breath
through the gaps in your
putrid yellowed-teeth.
There has never
been air quite as
saccharine,
believe me.

Let them devour you,
those reeking beliefs of yours.
Let them dismantle you;
the very seams you hold
so dearly-
obliterated by it.
Those hand sewn
patchwork repairs,
strong enough only
to keep out the dust
and to keep in the rage.

A streetlamp flutters
then goes out.
And of many things,
this, you flout.

Some girlish laughter-
empty sound;
You are mistaken,
Thoughts: Profound.

Torn at the lining,
~Silver named~
walk me home slowly,
I've been lamed.

Barrow through burrow
to and fro,
from me to you, friend,
it's time to go.

Alone I scuttle,
dank streets my home;
Moldy and mildewed,
there-I roam.