Change was the
Single most frightening
Thing to him.
He had always been
This way and didn’t
Want to modify it.
He was utterly
Miserable and
Desperately unfulfilled.
He’d hang on
Just a little longer,
Until it was all over.
The birds see me
Looking at them
From inside the house.
They don’t know what
I’m thinking,
Or maybe they do.
All he’s able to
Feel is the fear
They keep driving
Into his already
Frazzled brain,
A constant pulse of
Anxiety and dread,
Pictures of horrible
Things happening
Everywhere, too much
To assimilate in any
Other way than panic,
Insidious affliction.
Her fate was decided behind
Closed doors. After some time,
They emerged from the chamber,
Delivered her sentence, a
Ruthless slap in the face
Administered by pusillanimous
Minions immune to truth.
A gaggle of feeble followers
Reinforcing each other’s
Frailties, susceptible to
Manipulation, incitement, the
Sustenance of the prostrate.
She’s so busy issuing
Insipid proclamations
About her own perception
Of the world that she
Neglects the limping
Casualties of her
Discomforting sunniness.
Everything is so wonderful
And organized in her eyes,
It couldn’t be any other way,
She can’t survive a day
Without imposing her
Unnecessary, unsolicited
Imprimatur of suitability.
Two quiet birds
Sat together in
A tree, enjoying
Each other’s company,
Sharing a placid afternoon
In a beautiful garden.
One young person
Stepped outside and
Admired the idyllic scene.
Another young person
Scared them away,
Unmoved.
I wish I could assert
How unhappy I am
When I’m around you,
How my throat closes
And my chest hurts
When I think of spending
Any length of time
In your vicinity,
How your presence
Makes me think of
The innumerable times
When I was crushed
With complete disregard,
Laughed at as I lay there,
Screaming for help.
I’d like to say all
These things, but
It will never happen.
Ungracious, unkind, unaware.
Hubris dripping from every pore,
A disproportionate sense of value
Engendered by early deprivation,
A yearning to feel important.
Please tell me how great I am.
I relish every compliment and promise to
Turn it into a creepy exercise,
A child dancing awkwardly
For adulation.
The small try to inflate themselves with
The breath of the compassionate.
A constantly burning engine requiring
More and more fuel to maintain its
Sad vanity.
A fragile crust of civility and
Self-satisfaction.
Practiced posturing.
Faces contorting laboriously,
Success stories volleyed
Back and forth, each more
Ungracious than the last, an
Ostentatious display of nihility.
Settling into oversize furniture,
Numbing drinks in hand, a
Selective catalog of books by
Small spewing minds, an
Overweening intimation of depth.
A flurry of strained graciousness,
High-school like social disgraces.
Scratch the surface to reveal
Festering unease.
