Oh, perhaps that’s it.

I have an issue, you see.
It’s pretty broad, but I’ll go ahead and call it
‘self-discovery.’

I look at all different peoples
bending their knees
giving praise and endless faith to
their respective deities

I watch dedicated lovers and
porcelain frail believers
fall to pieces under
reality’s hard demeanors

There are the careless and the careful
and the fearless and the fearful
and those who—turn their heads, or
whimper because they’re so easily startled

The naive and the
pathetic and the
pained proud and the
scoffing wise.
The overdosed and the
underdressed or the
plastic faces and the
messed up aces
the kind-hearted youth and the
polluted uncouth, I’m so—

where does everyone come from?
who deserves happiness? tell me, who
deserves pain? what is decision making, and
does it all end with the coffin we lay in?

I cry for the child across the street I’ve never met before, and
I weep for that novella’s character knockin’ on heaven’s door.
What is a sin, and
does it really matter under
so-called Hellfire’s screeching dins?

I’m confused and I’m curious most of the time.
Pretending that I’m a poet, a whiz at rhyme.
And to those who I’ve touched, will I ever touch again?
another life, another story, some other
universal happening.

You see, I don’t see the me in myself
I see a soul in a vehicle, driving my way out
So let’s say there’s flash dancing and a pansy charade
bidding me farewell, pops of fizz and champagne.

Hey, Death. Let’s get drunk together.