Funny how it became the question I hate most…
But who are you to ask me that dammit
curiosity doesn’t warrant leeway;
stupid pragmatism’s thrown me off the freeway,
headfirst onto reality’s path
heartlast still hung up with the past
even in the settled dust –
too pronounced are the shreds of my obstinacy to be concealed gosh
how is it that I am so transparent when you do not know me at all?
New people. Same questions. Old answers.
my mouth denies my thoughts,
my bandages are made from salt;
all for the gossamer of my amour propre – oh why