maddened by
all that i don't know
it makes sense that,
it only being a portion of a picture
a sliver of your life
what you're comfortable to show

suppose it's what you would be
free from happenstance
unburdened, all you could be
if only
not for the cosmos' harp
if not for the hands of chance

this trepidations man i am
today, when an honest heart
is a sure sentence, guilty
the first step down the road
of the tired path of the ******
is to give up and fold
to say, if it's so it's so
accepting things with no gripe
no complaint, even when it's wrong
and you have the unfortune in knowing

i loved what i'd seen
what had been shown
before the clock was cleaned
the gears all greased
every meaningful place
stamped out, like the grand empires of old

and now they're churned out
broken, spoiled, soiled
focused looking solely,
totally out on their own

closer than ever, yet poles apart
we roam