How

Ideological society.
Lack of identity, humanity.
Tyranny. It is art.
Turning on self, no one is exempt.
Melancholy, grey, silent. Oppression.
Good. Progress toward nothing and nowhere.
Learning the meaningless. Unable to speak.
Truth is irrelevant.
Logic is circular. The.

One Divided by Infinity

We craft our material identity continually to more easily be digested by others. Present ourselves in sound bites and snippets. We are not ourselves. We are who they think we are, who we appear to be. Ever-changing, ever-constant? Even the self we project is governed by society, by our perception of a societal truth. What remains? Nothing. Nothing identifiable.

Flawed, Pro Bono

I have long been a fraud
Too tired to follow my own advice:
We believe in love, we think
but the feeling is not so easy to find.

We assume it will be
Just like that
You'll know, I'll know
As a matter of fact.

But it's only opinion
Right from the start
Subject to manipulation
You're left from the heart.

Repeat it again
What does it mean?
Is it a person or people
Or something unseen?

Are you grasping for an alibi
Someone you once knew;
A couple who are happy
They are the lonely few.

Don't waste your time chasing
An abstract idea
By waiting for an abstract person,
Who will never appear.

Live and be passionate
Enjoy what you feel
Embrace your desire
Remember what's real.

Actions and unforeseen consequences can sometimes be both astounding and intensely insignificant.

Define: I

You can try to be objective
but you never will.
Subjective by default.
You are an individual,
no matter how much you wish
otherwise.
Your eyes, your dreams,
your doubts, your life,
your death.

The Struggle

What have I done
What can I do
Where am I going
What can I prove?

Are you proud of me
Do you know who I am?

If you speak of me
What do you think I'd say?
When I'm gone
What will you dream in my place?

Why does my mind matter
If no one will ever guess?

I should concede while I am still just
Even these words fail to grasp the point
That my fingers are faithful I can only trust
What could be closer than this?

Healing Blues

Can you tell me why
I have suddenly lost
What was confidence
In my voice?

Is the answer simple,
Was it a myth to begin?
Was I blind,
Was I drinking straight gin?

I don't believe it's true
Which means for all of you
Nothing and nothing again
The one tale I cannot prove.

Just keep the rhythm going
Perhaps I will wake up
Only to question where I'm going
And spit in a paper cup.

Back and forth I wander
Wearing down my brain
I'll need new shoes by morning
Or I'll have to catch the train.

I doubt it is sincere
This crippling crutch of mine
A depth it lacks
And heart it attacks
Yet still it won't learn to rhyme.