Speech that reeks
Of loudest lie;
Pride is where I'm hiding.
Stretching to impress,
With dressings dreamt up,
Meant to seem immense.
But really I'm a mess,
Dying on the
Inside.
Trying, desperate.
Flying in my mind, to highest heights;
Blithely bent,
I mention that I must confess –
Eschew the dooming, drooling
Depths of my duress,
Against the messages I'm meant to
Face, but find I fucking flee
To meddling in muck.
I seek to see myself,
My essence kept, while mind molests
And tests the lessons
So abundantly addressed
To seconds slipping
Through a sieve;
Do I believe it benefits me?
Me, this sickened welp who masquerades as sage;
A petty prisoner
To emotion, and atonement,
Testing of his mettle on a solemn stage.
If only he would listen.
If only he could beat his maudlin moments.
If only I could hasten him to wisdom.
If only
He could rest;
Be free of loneliness.
If only he could speak his piece
As freely as he seeks a ruinous release,
And seemingly decrees
His Death.
At best,
What's left?
I surely don't have many more remorseful
Mournings
I can stomach gourging on.
I'm past the point of yawns and groans
Foraging for scraps of something more
Than bitter slivers of a normative
Existence.
Encouragement?
I'm warring with my guesses,
Ignoring all my blessings.
What is heaven's test?
Am I awake?
Am I indebted?
I cannot fake my way to absolution.
Why else, for Graces sake –
Why ever else would I accept this?
Comments