Facadic Bridges

We all have thoughts within our heads
that are wild and weird and loud
but we fear we would be judged and shunned
if we spoke our thoughts out loud

A fantasy or theory
that seems so very foreign
it surely would be met with looks
and words inciting torment

We are not sure if we believe
and yet they are recurring
but we dare not let it trickle out
lest others start inferring

A meaning or interpretation
read upon their faces
A horror they have gleaned from words
that represent just traces

A statement sought within your brain
that's aching to be born
Interpreted as hateful
as ignorance, as porn

Is the truth in their reactions
one that we cannot accept
or is the chasm that's between us
been deceitful of its depth

On this there's no authority
for your brain is your own
So we choose facadic bridges
rather then face life alone

Fragmented

I'm not used to this,
the feeling of an open wound
hemorrhaging and yearning for unguent calm
The feeling of a mannequin left naked in a main street window
The sagging wallpaper threatening to fall and expose my scribbles of madness
to a room full of prim and pomp
The heat leaves me writhing my clothes
The anxiety no longer needs this costume
The stray hair loosened from my meticulous bun,
savagely hanging, mocking
My sweet smile and tight neck challenge one another
The spreading pink hue of realization
emblazoned on my neck and chest
The betrayal of it all sinks deep inside

"Is anyone else warm?" has various meanings right now

'Can anyone else admit that playing a role for the sake of being liked and accepted is absolute fuckery and an abhorrent deviation of human nature?'
The wallpaper holds much more effectively then my tongue despite it's age, and mine.
I slip, I expose to them a true taste of who I really am.

The gasps are amusing, the sudden exodus a hilarity. The remaining solitude is golden.

Just the evening shadows and I, the way the universe intended.