Future

My slippery soul

shed the skin

of my former lover.

His leathery

gentle expressions

of sex

and TV shows

weren't enough for me.

I held out my fingertips

praying that your spread teeth wouldn't saver me harshly

like people love to do.

You ignored my embrace

to taken

with the plastic dinning room table.

I painted my mother's face

on the doorknob

of the flower's outside

so that she would be near me always.

I offered myself the sunset

and a world of freedom

and experience.

But I'm afraid;

how do I leave what I've always known

how do I cut the skin of society away from myself long enough to find the true person within.

Is it in the open range lands?

The penthouse apartment?

Is their dirt on my hands?

Or fancy Italian gloves costumed made?

Are my beautiful children playing in the yard outside of my window?

Or is my work, my fancied infant?

Tell me how I escape this fear

this malevolent pain of the future

do I go my way with my chosen companion?

Or by myself?