You sit here now
reading my words

as if they'll bring
meaning of divinity;

but all you,
is words of
delinquency,

delicately portrayed as poverty
and utterly deprived of potency.

This soliloquy is arbitrary.

What a catastrophe - this play;
this stage, this single portray.

What a dream to thee,
an imagination empty;

realized and false
anticipated, walls.

This man, a boy, this manic-can, a toy.

You say so many people "suffer"
from mental health, an analogy

I never understood.

While you preach it,

my lack thereof increases by
the day. So it seems so hard.

All I know is this is total truth;
undressed and unprovoked, the end.

I have no reason to hide anything from you,
the person I am to become in times relived.

This empty vessel beckons,
this empty vessel replies.
This empty vessel opens;
this empty vessel tries.

01/27/2013

Posted on 01/27/2013
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