.

i think you must be in jest.
to say that my narrative is wrought with
consistent ill-uses, and brings only
a moment of confused attempts within
the readers brain to create an unlikely
epiphany, is a euphemism for
“i’ve forgot the wonder of poetic freedom”
for to describe the world in only
sensible terms is prose. and while such
word play has its uses, the play would
soon loose the lust for understanding
that comes from encountering the
unexplained.

yes, it’s frivolous aesthetic.

you might see a person
and call them tall, or fair skinned, or
having a big nose. but i say they are
a wandering soul in the sea of
homogenous indemnity that is the
american experience. you can see
in the style of their dress a
representation of the true
minimal idealism and worn out
patriotic soap boxes. you might say
they are just poor, and i say that
the fruit of labor is bestowed upon
those who have inherited the grace
which follows the rich, while the
meager inheritance of the meek
seems to do little to pay earthly bills.

you might say that this poetic nonsense
is only the vain struggle of a young
foolish girl who cannot bear to look
at the world through prose, for it then
looses the luster that can be found
in its dark places and hard times,
if you can turn a phrase just so.

are poetics the original spin? or is
there truly a human need to find
beauty when the cracks are discovered
in the world of the real and it’s too
late to open our eyes?

you might say that’s a beautiful sunset,
but i say that the moment my eyes
feasted upon this reminder of our celestial
position, painted upon the skies with
such grand expression it caused me
pain to see the world beneath its gaze,
for only night follows the sunset.

i think we both have our uses.