Flags of Failure

Hearken all to the rageful voices
of those who sit on self made thrones
those made afraid of boogeymen
those molded into desparate clones
Now they stomp and gnash with guns and hoods
and convince themselves they're brave
Blind to the shadows that are cast
When their Flags of Failure wave

A Game of Misdirection

It’s a game of misdirection
A sinister sleight of hand
Lecherous inflection
Aggrandizement of the bland

A ravenous flock of scavengers
Who much prefer the gristle
A merciless crew of ravagers
Who yearn to shock and bristle

A tiny matter of distaste
Splashed across the page
And expertly they roast and baste
To cultivate the rage

As we scream and clean our follicles
O’er the tiniest offenses
We cannot see the powers that be
Are blurring all the lenses

Somewhere the facts are thrashing
Trying hard to breach the surface
If it finds the shore it’s gasping
Wondering if the swim was worth it

Betrayal

Undaunted I stare at you
try not to glare at you
Hoping my look is conveying enough

Your story jumps here to there
Alibi in disrepair
knowing full well I am poised to rebuff

You've underestimated
Just why I've hesitated
Let you exhaust your most fraudulent tongue

Despite what you've spoken
The bond is now broken
Of all of the words you've said I believe none

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.