RAW WORKS FOR THE DARING SOUL
I see you,
Your probity beaming bright on my lack thereof.
Slapping the lies I’ve ingested and built as my own.
I’ve temporarily pleased off the pain of others,
Only to be left starving and alone.
Don’t be distracted by those who mistake your presence for impairment,
Because we need you and I see you.
And although at my most weak moments I continue to mistreat and misjudge the traces of your decency,
I needn’t feed the same poison to others simply because it was fed to me.
We sat across each other admiring our mirrored features,
I always knew you were in there.
She winked.
Perhaps why we’d never bore,
Too many thoughts and conversations to be had,
But to see you here on the outside of my thoughts while simultaneously still on the inside,
Something different.
I waved my arms overhead,
And you crossed yours,
“I’m not a fucking puppet.”
I blushed and continued to study her charm.
She stood up and did a beautiful spin just for me.
She’s more graceful than me, I thought.
We both started to laugh, echoing one another.
It vibrated the room waking up my partner from his sleep.
His eyes tired and struck,
“Who the fuck are you talking to?”
And when he flipped on the light she was gone.
“Traitor,” I whispered.
I thought I was waiting,
I thought I was late,
Merely because my thoughts were wrapped in time, in a state.
Only to unveil that everything I am is punctual,
Is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
And this time, time, time,
That we continue to weaponize against ourselves,
Is the exactly what has halted us from the present,
From the growth,
From the real magic that exists inside and outside our realms.
Contemptuously conditioned to stuff extremely complicated subjects
into tiny boxes.
Hoarding what’s ours and hissing at anyone who questions,
No, threatens!
I don’t believe that some are tougher than others.
Sensitivity is the nature of our species,
Some of us are just better liars,
Cloaking ourselves in more acceptable emotions like
indifference, anger, annoyance.
Because most of us have souls that fled somewhere in the early chaos,
Leaving our hearts exposed to whatever change of wind life decides to blow.
CONVERSATIONS WITH ASSHOLES 