I Versus Me
Honestly, nobody honors me;
nobody understands nobody's fond of me.
They paint a mockery of what I ought to be,
docking the ocean's autobiography
. . . when it's a pond they sea.
Hollow dreams skip scenes of life's slipstream
amidst seams buried beneath Gacy's aching floor beams.
Faith hopelessly glistening for anyone witnessing
the wordsmith whose words ripped Hurt's/Hertz ribs
frequently to preserve everything that is perfect.
Honestly, honesty's the worst policy:
A hollow creed bearing possession - an apostrophe.
Pieces of peace are far gone and deceased.
Removing the leash to relinquish the freak
beckons morning glory of gory mourning
storming the moral of the story before me.
None can prepare for repressive despair.
Poltergeists convene in dungeon and lair,
possessing depressed priests without blessings to spare,
tormented from reckless repair of forcing the fare to be fair.
I versus me: my own worst enemy
pretending to defend the writing friend inside of me.
Befriending fiending demons sleeping right to the side of me,
left with deceiving insight of thee, blindly receiving a fright to see.
Needlessly, I say this:
I cannot sleep when my mind becomes brainless,
rupturing from promiscuous paces
of baseless races tainted by faceless racists.
Solo participant, yet still somehow in last place - shit!
Somehow being Heaven sent has me graced with
maintaining a faith in faithless angel faces
worshipping the master's aides, conjuring bastard plagues.
Fuck this masquerade - shaving off the mask today.