Milking my unease for everything it’s worth

I’m stepping hard kicking rocks for the

sake of throwing dirt and it’s burning

it’s way through the back my eyes when I

spy all around me expecting everyone to

notice me and see that I’m stepping out

of line and dressed out of time

an anachronistic fashion crime but it’s

not enough to push hard from the crowd

I’ve abandoned all hope when I entered

my slick new rat bastard persona

it’s all over me and I see simple signs all around

that I’m treading on a road less followed

and so far alone and removed from

a grove that would be worth riveting and

beating every reap that I’ve sown

so unforgiving is the road that leads

to being me and unwholesome as it seems

I’m still four foot three beneath me

or the skin that contains this false presentation

of a grown ass man

I’m still 8-10 and playing pretend



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