I keep pretending I'm alone.
Even after losing my seat
to her new prince.
enough to make my dog wince.
I still love the sad songs her puppy dog eyes dispense.
it was never her truth, per usual;
per his glimpse,
into the future of my demise.
I pretend to appreciate the gent in the white coat.
A self diagnosis wouldn't compromise
Don't, she won't, undermine my competency
it lends itself to my daily routine,
I self prescribe with perplexing potency
an unprecedented golden rule.
This wasn't preconditioned,
not an act of repetition.
Like Pavlov's shepherd
I implore and drool.
I pretend its a new found happiness.
it's for the birds
I believe it's for the ignorant
the people with white picket fences
and golden retrievers.
Beware of the conformist
the ones who did well on geometry tests
their smile so luminous
like diamonds between her *******.
I'm a lose leaf in autumns first frost
hanging on the edge of winters righteous freeze.
the shackled, the .22,
let it be me.
I'm a warning sign, Cuba 1963;
Why's the gent in the white coat swinging that Triangle hammer at my knees?
I can barely sleep as it is
from this dusty room
I garner for clues inauspiciously
the obtuse path back to the life i once lived,
obstructed by the 4 seasons, the 4 reasons, the 4 walls,
the 4 grains in this whiskey.
Life outside of her box is a bargain.
Before the flies, where my heart lies;
her highfalutin jargon.
Coping with this void gives me nightmares.
joe and daydreams, I
anxiously begin to slur.
I wish he'd stop cutting his pen through the air,
reminds me of my geometry teacher,
lecturing vicariously through a sorcerer
maybe the boring one's preacher?
everyone in this coffee house likes to stare.