The known world will destroy
Itself with absurd propensities.
Our past will start to hurt, just as
     Our imaginations would.

Soon we will act like dogs,
And you know the old, old trick,
Dog eats dog,
     Then eats men.

Your beauty will reave me of words,
And words, dream. My silence
Will deceive. I will pilfer through
The works of those before me--
     The timeless liars,

Then my mind will front my heart
To mask itself, and these poems,
Easily, will fall to the category
     Of deft pretentiousness,

And yet I love you, I love you,
It is the sole truth
     I did not think of.*

© 2015 J.S.P.