Your Transparency

Your transparency leads me 
to believe that you’re 
as shallow as the Reed Sea
that Moses crossed
though you’d say
you too are lost in translation.
It was your trend 
to pretend to be someone,
then be a mannequin,
letting others dress you.
When that failed
being a bohemian
fit into your plan.
You took a crack at
following Jack Kerouac
yet that included too many people as well.
And though the term fit you,
you’d never admit to 
being a hipster
because it’d put you in a group.
You read Camus
could recite Satre too. 
Live by 
what Durden would do.
You believed essence
proceeds existence.
So you introduce yourself with pretense.
This has become you.
You call it culture
though I’m not too sure;
when you show such demur
in finding something
to be a part of. 


Who Am I

Let me taste syrupy sweet lies
that attracted those other flies.
This is my gift to you in July.
A personality more suited to a Gemini.
But you’re a cancer
in that you’re all over.
Were you honestly lying
when you said you’re bipolar?
You’re too kind
though only at times
when you call me beautiful
to play with my mind.
Then kiss me coldly
only to soothe me.
I know your cloudy transparency.
How clear you are to me. 
You’re hoping to find romance, 
dreaming for fantasy,
working for perfection,
but we’re too human in reality.
I saw how you became dark
to hide that away.
How you want to find true love…
perhaps one day.
And that need to be loved
has defined who you are.


What happened to that joy?
That I saw on your face ago?
Before the wrinkles of time began to show.
You spent hours
bleeding on your paper
about things we were too young to know.
Eyes straining in the shadows
finding where the black ink would go.
I lost you to that world for days.
I was amazed at how your pants fell.
Your thin limbs would tell
how easily you would snap
if I was too strong.
Those dark blue jeans
were replaced with black ones with inseams.
And almost admitting this mistake;
yet afraid to do a rash thing
you wore a noose around your neck.
So you slowly suffocated.
What happened to the hours you put in?
The sleep you were lacking?
The food you weren’t eating?
The wall you were bashing?
You were light from drugs.
You still drink poison.
Is this too a mistake?
You are growing weary.
You’ll barely make it through
The joy has disappeared
Along with the dreams of you.