Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Untitled


What trickery was used?
To slip under bolted doors
And windows warped with tears
Did the fool in me
Unlock the key?

The key to what, I am not sure
Perhaps to roles, I played
Parts played out in masquerades
Of pallid grins, death masks in
Sarcophaguses of suffocation

Who is this one?
This ragged composite of my fragments
Another role? A recent avatar
Whose ruses rise
To mock the masquerades of past incarnations

Who am I?
Whose certainties are flawed
Pock-marked by insecurities
Wind whipped by ambiguity
Eroded by life’s daily accretions
  
I am he who lives in
Patchwork palaces stitched with
Isolated molecules of faith
Strung between the stars
A fool prepared to hope


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