Snippet Of A Conversation

“Confront the facts!

You’ve hated yourself,

You’ve lived a lie!

You’re not what you present!”

 

“Shut up.

All persona is presentation,

It’s all a lie anyway

So what does it matter?”

 

“Represent someone else

And hide from what you really feel.

Is this what you really want,

Miss Freedom of Expression?”

 

“I’ll express what I choose.

My secrets are my own,

And does anyone really care

What I feel inside?”

 

“What does it matter

If anyone gives a damn?

What satisfactions comes

From dishonest expression?”

 

A Loud Night

July, late at night,

Fullest of expression,

Dance and open-ended,

But still separate.

One little touch,

A thrill and delight,

While falling so short

Of what I need.

Pleasant distraction,

These tortured revelries

Like simple remedies

For bored nothings.

Smile while laughing,

Not disingenuous,

But a lingering sadness

Sits in my brain.

Merely a touch,

One hit from the pipe

Of animal comforts

To top off the night.

 

 

A Poetry Poem

I wish I could express

In speech as I do in writing

How much I feel about you,

How heavily I care,

How deeply you affect me,

And everything that means.

Mind to mind,

Or empathy to recognition,

In terms of verbal exchange

Is apt to be uncomfortable.

You can read my poems

And feel me more fully

Than you ever could’ve felt me

Face-to-face.

Extrordinary circumstances

Might expose our true emotions,

But the mundanity of self-consciousness

Prevents a simple telling.

I can try,

And occasionally do well,

But I’ve little hope of equaling

The context of the written word.

I love you.