I AM WHO I AM
By excess, a sinner
with a lack of occasion.
Unrepentantly impious
and saint without religion.
Renouncing to impose desires
which, in their life, must live.
Cured of divers impostures.
Prisoner betwixt my given word
and my passions.
In my exceptionality,
just another man.
Nail file.
Soaking up the sun that breaks the cloud,
on temporary parole.
My hands, ready for that loyal,
unbent friend with strings.
My nails, ready to make her cry,
to make her scream,
to make her sing.
Unriffing.
It's been a long ducking fay,
unhappenings worth a year in it.
The system, frazzled, begs for a rest
and denies it.
I'll have my GP to thank
for the following 180 minutes,
and back to the board.
Trust?
What's the meaning of that?
The river turns to glacier,
in the blink of an eye.
Perplexed, I seek a way,
when I know there's none.
The odes I carry, will be taken
for artifice.
The pain, as histrionics,
the music as affectation,
my past and future loyalty,
a stratagem.
Brief interlude.
Hope roared at the brink of the abyss
... and the abyss stared back.
In fury it lashed, maiming,
hounding,
seeking to spare.
Mutilated, forsaken,
still defiant.
STILL ROARING.
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