Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The shrunken head
Of old therapies

The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury

Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another

Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world

Uncaring
In derision
From calloused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail

Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore

What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged  
Just to prove

The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies

Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant

Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive

A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour

Double-edged          
Double-standards
Double-dealing        
Double-meaning
Double-minded      
Double-jeopardy
Double-troubl­e        
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life

All propagated in
Double-time

Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!

I can’t begin
Its hurts too much
The pain of this ending erases every grain of my love
My ability to care is gone
But I will endure
I turn away and walk with purpose to my new life
I am not whole, I have cracks in every joint
But I will live on
I will not forget you
For I will not allow your maltreatment of my spirit to prevail
But I will live on
The hurt will make me feel,
I know I am alive
I will not cry for mercy
I have no tears for you
If you were hurt, I would walk away never noticing the speck that is you.
I will endure and move on

I have a purpose
I am something
I am supposed to be here
What will happen when my purpose disappears?
What will happen when I’m no longer ripe?
What will become of me when I’m discarded in the dirt?
Once a blossom
Now I’m nothing more
Nothing more than the hole my purpose once filled
Nothing more than what made me feel real
What once made me feel real is now providing tangibility to another
A girl I never was
A girl you write sonnets about
A girl you would wage war for
A girl that is so effortlessly magic
A girl that you would wait for, no matter how many years passed
A girl that makes you feel real
Why can’t I be her?
Why don’t I make you feel real?
What is my purpose if not to heal?
What is my purpose?
For a brief second, I become real
I become seen
The person across is looking at me
That second is gone
What will happen when my purpose disappears?
How could I win if there’s nothing within?
How could I win when I’m undeserving?
How could I win when I indulge my sins?
How could I win if there’s no purpose I’m serving?
I had a purpose
I was something

“Where is it I must go?”,
I ask my mirror’s reflection
Is there truly something missing,
Or do I miss imperfection?
I’ve yet to wander far enough
To dull my soul’s reverberations

My body, a holy temple fueled by resounding purpose

GONGG…..GONGG…..GONGG…..

Do I truly know my calling,
Or is my longing just a comfort?
If I am grateful for my life,
Should I worry time is too short
To spend any of my days
Without some type of progress to report?

I worry I am drifting asleep. I need to wake up before it’s too late

GONGG…..GONGG…..

What if I gave it up?
I fear it might end really bad
Would the universe reject me
And crumble everything I had,
Make sure that I was forced
To fulfill some sort of soul contract?

If I knew which one was my opponent, I could be prepared to fight

GONGG…..

I wonder, will I ever make it?
Is there even an “it” to make?
If there is something I desire,
Then is it something I will create?
Do I focus on my blessings
Or on a treasure that might be fake?

I ask for a sign that I am doing the right thing

…..

bap·​tism: an act, experience, or ordeal by which one is purified, sanctified, initiated, or named.

floating in the vacuous flow of time -
endless whispers and murmurs,
trying to figure out which thoughts are mine,
and which thoughts are planted by others.

overwhelmed by the idea of being perceived.
to relinquish control or to take control?
we are nothing but one individual
in the sea of billions.

who's to say that this is worth our time?
who's to say that we have purpose?
i need a baptism to purify, to sanctify, to initiate, to name myself.
to find purpose in this ocean of nothingness.

If you ask who this is,
It's not important.
That a man has a name,
What is its purpose
But recognition?
I don't care about the hate,
But I don't want praise-
Yet, I would hate to leave you in confusion.
The double edged knife,
When the answers hurt us both.
Perhaps it's better not knowing.

Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited,
Ill-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Has willed and meted me the tears I've shed,
I clench my fist and shake it at the sky

And at the cruel God who hammers me,
Delivering the blows that break my brain;
The God who finds his greatest ecstasy
In violencing my life with blinding pain

And, laughing, says, "Thou suffering thing, declare
If thou hast understanding: Who hath laid
The measures of the earth's foundations?  Where
Wast thou, disgraceful man, whenas I made
The cloud the garment of the sea?  Beware,
Thou foolish man, thy maker to upbraid!"

Be the recluse,
Be the hermit,
And make your assessments of others
Based on short and fleeting interaction,
Drenched in the sweat of "purpose" & "agenda,"
And be met with statements
Which really convey nothing and rarely
Encapsulate honest thought in brevity
But are said only to end the conversation.
Close knit,
The threads choke,
Living your turtleneck life.
No collar to be turned up,
The cotton already hugs your throat;
Nothing to end abrupt,
That which never saw its start.
Those who talk
Simply to hear themselves,
Do they have anything to say?
Those with the blinders on,
They never see the entrance ramp
Neither the turn-offs
Till it's too late.