naked words, naked words
strip them down, we dress them up in route to work
and give them outfits that are ideas
then we let them model so others have heard–

every idle syllable that we have learned
squirms inside our minds like they’re buried worms
we pull one out to preen and style well
before sending off for them to do a work

and in return we want a reaction,
something to give the worms a satisfaction
the joy of feeling like they’re found attractive
after all, that’s all we’re really asking–

right?
to be beloved by the people on your side?
often times in you they don’t confide–
often times it’s you too hurt to cry
and seldom is there not a coat, hiding the thoughts of your mind

do in “putting your best foot forward” you lie?
crafting an image that’ll appeal to someone you like?
why, is it so easy to put away personality for performance–
to fall into the shadow of the unattainable
to be seduced by the worms of others

that we find ourselves inadequate in the perception of the image of another

maybe it’s the opposite we’re trying to achieve
to draw lower than our actual esteem
so instead we form an image that is broken and bleeding
hoping it’ll draw attention and the pity that we need
–
bad publicity is still publicity
pity is still attention

Truth is a scythe that is bent on taking
every ****, every lie that sounds persuasive
hurt by the Truth means that Truth showed it’s hand
swung at the **** you held onto in the sand

what do i have
that you could want?

you’ve flown like missiles
swam like submarines
i haven’t counted grains of sand on the beach

i haven’t roared the thunders
or painted islands,
…and yet you look at me?

to acknowledge the inner nomad
the one travelling on
its best to travel light
with an unburdened mind.

Yes she was a ghost
a vision in my sight
A delicacy to touch and taste
She appeared then  would vanish in the night

Just like a real ghost