Who’s The Blame
I ‘m finding it hard to defend my actions
while i’m still packing this .45
keeping me alive with a challenge pride
in spite of my conscience having already
DIED
The Show
T he stage was set, new characters in place
never knowing what to expect
another name another face
waiting for your performance
expectations E N O R M O U S
though you appear to be harmless
She Knows
S cent of perfume
stand-offish moods
unknown caller
lipstick on collar
she knows
Flatline
I ’m so sore inside
from pretending to hide
the fact that i don’t see
the ATTACKS
that you create, but make no mistake
that my internal condition
keeps my attention in a state of fixation
The Circus
S urrounded by clowns
with faces of contempt
bodies
limp from exhaustion
from fail attempts (but still intent)
on costing me my promotions
through commotions of red tape
handshakes fake
as politicians speeches
