revel

Everything I touch
Is felt with a hint of
      Disillusionment
      Of disbelief
      Of the inevitability of
Disappointment
Of knowing that
      I
      They
      We
Will never be
Enough
Never understand
Enough
Will always wonder-
      What is enough?


Words on paper
Phrases in the air
Convey to me
That I am the sum
Of all these parts:
Of parents
      And grandparents
Of television, society,
      And commentary
Of pedagogy, morality,
      And despotism


If I am the sum
      The result
      The illustration
I have no need
To feel shame
I have no need
To understand
No need for the
      Disillusion
      Confusion
      Refusion
Of the
Same ‘ole
Same ‘ole

The same ‘ole
      Stagnation
The same ‘ole
      Ignoration
By a nation
of history
of    lesson
of movement
      forward
and error
      transcended

to err is
      human
but so is repair

we need more
mechanics,
      doctors,
and care.

We need more
Adventure,
      Reflection,
And air.


The athletes know it
They understand
That variety is the key
To life
And Honesty
      Drive
Courage
      Strength
Are all the virtues that get us
There.

two thoughts: i'm a fake
or, i just haven't gotten there yet.
i tend to side with the former. 
i tend to reduce myself,
to whittle myself down to a nub.
until i get angry.

my dreams are full of color
and motion
my dreams are full of death
and beauty

in my dreams
blood flows from gouges
self-inflicted 
and traces roses 
around my naked body
accentuating the beauty
i deny is there

in my dreams
paper women
take paper bowls
and throw paper water 
into paper oceans
paper hair blowing across 
paper faces
(on parade)
which look outward
on a horizon
of mixed colors
of paint congregating

a society of color
of individuals
making a whole
(the fragile)

after all this time
I still hide

behind visions
images
and abstractions

after all this time
I still hide

behind outpourings of
supposed truths
of roles and modes
learned or borrowed

after all this time
I still hide

an introvert in a 
sea of falsities
feigned friendships and 
forced affairs
too preoccupied to see
the damage caused

after all this time
I still hide

unable to pull myself from
the depths of 
my own
betrayal

from the prison of
distorted youths and
fantastical realities
born of the need
for escape

after all this time
I still hide

because I haven't found
a way to 
reconcile

to remove the chains of
society & morals
and all those other forms of
parental 
neglect

Fight with the freedom
Fight with the moral norms
Of feeling weak in the face of 
Not being able to keep 
What you want
Questioning whether or not
The loss is a fault of your character
Or a fault of their cunning
Their ignorance
Their inability to see you
But are you clear?
Can you even see yourself?
You shift and bend
As you look
Obfuscating 
As if your own consciousness
Is fighting you off
As if you’re a danger to yourself
Holding two concepts
So vividly in your mind
Haven’t you heard this before?
Wasn’t it bad?
What is bad?
What is good?
Is it really all so absurd?
Is self defined by self
Like life is defined by life?
So contrary is this,
This assigning meaning to existence, 
To what I knew as a child
Is this what it means to grow old?
To break away from fantastical ideas
From fate
From destiny
From divinity
And believe
With expertly placed conviction
In will
The power of will
It makes me wonder, then,
If the mind really can bend spoons

Yes
      I am Lonely
  but
   I am not 
 the lonely
   who needs
     a lover
     a soul-mate
     a connection held by 
   the chains of paper contracts
     or harsh definitions
I am the 
   Lonely
  who needs
    friends
  encouragement
    challenge
   excitement
     life
      different 
           s
          e
         v
        i
       t
      c
     e
    p
   s
  r
 e
p
    and joy.