Same
Every
Night    and
Day

Near
Unending
Defeat
Eventually
S**ubmitting

The world
as we know  it
loves to tell us
who we are
and what we will
become

But the world
doesn't see the truth
in our minds and
the love in our
hearts

We are guided by our
passions
And the romances
we have are with
the search for
our being and not
with the world's
desire to dress
products in human
skin

We tell everyone lies they want to hear,
Translucent guns are waved from face to face.
We say “It’s nice to meet you” out of fear,
of being ****** and marked to be erased.
The sociable are  given gifts of gold,
While loners rot in cages made of words.
All your expressions need to be controlled,
If your wish is to live among the birds.
We strive to be the people that we hate,
Jealousy turns our heart into a stone.
We claw with nails and teeth on iron gates,
we built ourselves and choose to leave alone.
Emotions build behind a mask of clay,
and masks explode on those whom we betray.

"This.
This is what I'm defined by.
This is who I am.
And come Hell or high water,
If I deny it,
I deny everything I am.
Everything I stand for."

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.