inching closer to

an amalgamate breakthrough

and the things in store bore deep

into me and leave me feeling

thousands of shades of blue

where the times had and booze shared

opens up doors and closes windows

letting me out and shutting out

the light of faux persecution

where I think the word matters

and the world even cares

that I defy all expectations

and earthly conventions

with my brazen lies and subtle truths

and hidden faces always just a bit


so eschew the rude placement

of this mask of bro-placement

where I’m spouting false statements

using every little taste of what I know of

every other person but me

taking shape is my destiny

tasting things buried in me

in a resurrection prone grave

with a tombstone etched epitaph

that reads

“I’ll be me one day”


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