In defiance I stare you down
You have beaten be before, no doubt
The stark white overwhelms even the best of them
but surely I, with so much electric stories in my brain
can stare you down

Make you sing

Years ago the world shifted
and nobody but me noticed
nobody seemed to really give it much thought
a few token questions asked on the sly
I answered them as I answer all such lines
a bold and outright lie

I wonder sometimes if it’s so easy
because I know I’ll never fry
there is no final judgement for us in this lifetime
or any other lifetime, for we got only one
one life to build up with pride
and to smash open like a rotten apple against the pavement

And what is the price for such knowledge?
Does a man sell his soul for the truth?
From the rooftops I announce my stance
but in my solitude my words refuse to obey
when only a few days ago, around a thousand, I believe
they lined up like little toy soldiers

In desperation I have dipped my hands into the past
and held onto the old knowledge like
a pool of water in my palms

I am saturated in a new truth
one which was supposed to free the mind and
stave of oppression, instead I find myself
oppressed by my own sense of reality
possessed by my new outlook, and
depressed by my own lack of worth

I can hear the old ones calling me
they want me to dance with them
and fooling myself more than them
I hold out my arms, reaching for the enthusiasm I once had
but as soon as I look down I see the chasm
that separates me from my light reflection

I hate myself for writing this
because I know the message I’m sending
isn’t one I want in the universal river

But if the family man who lost his wife
can talk about his struggles with the plan
then I can, with openness, talk about mine
even if it seems like a cry for help

It isn’t, by the way

If I needed help, I’d ask for it

And if I needed help, I wouldn’t
find it in an old book, which gives fewer answers
than I get from the night sky

Tonight, I had planned on talking about
love, on its wonders and the pain it can cause
just another angst riddled poem about a boy who wears
masks to hide the pain, instead I find myself
taking off my mask and talking openly about something
I often keep to myself

I guess if He does exist he has a hell of a sense of humour

But he doesn’t, and the joke is on me