as you write poems behind the scenes about everyone and anyone, forget those that helped you along the way. Invitations to another carnival…and poach at every opportunity you can get. Deciding which personality to be.
Acting innocent are we with arrows in the back.
We can all pretend to be grandeur.
We can all pretend to be hated
We can all dream when the river flows our way.
We can all bleed together and call ourselves unity.
We can be our keeper until one is needed.
Let the death of us fall over, while you’re too busy posing.
Self-declare yourself the one in a vanity mirror.
Watch yourself exempt all that has made you, your strut is a broken gallop. Until you are melted by another. It was your game to win.
And what a prize.
To be a stuck Lego man, yellow, masked, with a facade smile. You cared about this world, or was it just the king of the broken city you were after.
Here is your address to what is dire poetry,
Here is your crown of catfish and the same 10 people that give you the key to the neon light.
Enjoy Sundays.
Fevers of the Mind 