..

“To Paint a Lens Purple”

It’s your pride

That stinks up the room

When you’re so sure

That you’re reaching a plateau,

A platform that’s going to jettison you

From your former life

Of squalor, of insecurity and lack of meaning,

And people

.

Have every

Right

To feel compunction

When they sense that flight in you

And

.

When they knock you down to size

Maybe you’re just giving them

What you hadn’t, before,

And is rightfully theirs all along and

This is the human experience you chose

With body needy, flawed and

Doomed for collapse.

Post a Comment

Your email is kept private. Required fields are marked *