I have pretended in more ways
Than one would care to know
I have pretended for more hours
Than the light of sun would follow
I have pretended to never mind
The sharp edge
Of that carelessly placed
Poison soaked word
But it had slashed my chest,
my heart, my voice...
Oh! My blood-ridden word
My lungs have breathed
The burning ashes of those
Lava-kissed hooded plans
That never were for me
A faceless ghost, buried
Motives, that I saw through
Glass; I have pretended
To smile and walked along
In the path that doom laid
Upon incessant commands
I have pretended to be awake
When my consciousness yawned
Rest was a crime — a fancy one
I shall never commit, especially
When there are needs and
Wants of the ones with a pass
To pierce my hands with thorns
Of roses they lust for
My blood fills the gutter of the
Press that prints those cards
My voice inking on them
Pretentions run deep
In valleys and mountains
Of those imagined waters
Of Styx, stuck in crevices
And smells that spread shallow
I wouldn't.
The supply of mortar
And sillage boosters
Are low.
************
P. S. How did that feel?
Air choked, on words and soul?
Imagery that eye can't see
but oh.. it must..?
A skin so opaque, no senses
show, ghouls crawling?
Soul drowning in a crushing river
Bones dusted
Oh, but there's no water?
"You MUST be pretending."
That's how this heart felt.
And astronomically more.
Yes, I have a heart.
I breath too.
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