garb clad half mad

and forty percent insane

unclaimed and blamed

for everything that’s wrong with me

and I’m ashamed to be every

ounce of me that

buries my head in sand

waist deep

and it’s a shame to be the way I feel

when I look in the mirror it bleeds

and I screech out a “manly” scream

no feeling in my extremities

that pleases me without unease

I’m a gimp that cannot be easily

tease me and please be there

when the telephone rings I swear

its unfair that the tides shifting

I care an unbearable torrent of


and I swear I’d share

them all if you’d just

be with me

at the edge of this hypocra-city

where the faceless being that is me

claims every identity I see

myself as an amalgamation of every

station that I’ve born

and sworn up and down that I’d

come to terms not hide

not shift the blame to atrocities unkind

rewind to a time when I still was me

innocent and free of all this

blackened being

torso unwound like a ball of string

tainted and tingling

seeing every sight to see

the reflection gleams and

forces focus for me

the image free of all

perspective and glea

but I’m still there just

more of me

born a being in flux

in touch with everything



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