there is a cowardice
in the essence of lying
perhaps, it is the death
of the momentary innocence
a new conversation begins with
or the betrayal
brought on by that who had lied
betraying the converser, himself, and truth

falling far short of the marks
he erected for himself
the capital district continues to inflate their wealth
at the cost of the nation
for my compatriots' health
the future seems dire
in terms of rendering any help

you write of the gods
but i am here, on earth
my mind not in the clouds
with thoughts of saintly and good things
rather more comparable to the gutter
which isn't to say they do not linger
drifting through my mind
to see them brought to life although,
i should like to
and with you
it just isn't possible
not now

deepest affinities for you, my love
i am sorry i do not always say
always show it
and curse me if it leave you sore
for sore my world would be
without you

have i become complacent
content with the linear life i am leading
leading me nowhere, and fast
i can chase tomorrow, tonight
but how long will that last
young and spry, they fade
and the wind guard of youth
cracks
and you will feel
uneven, even shaded by leisure
to find kinks that will not give relief
in your day, in work and love, most painfully of all
despite your values and beliefs
the dream died

you can drown out the lies
but the hand still writes
the tongue still wags
like the tail
tucked between legs;
they'll all come to a head

in my chest
hums a grenade
violent turbulent days
himalayan skies
vast mountain peaks
dark valleys
that which wouldn't break;
in molting
still taking shape