It’s not always going to be bad
it’s not always going to be good
no amount of clever words
or wishful thinking can change it
bled dry of all pretences
all of life’s perfections and imperfections
sing disharmonious, clear.
The mind is an unforgiving god
seated in a crumbling temple
and the eyes
have grown tired of looking around
I see more clearly
with eyes closed these days.
I don’t have to like what I see there
and I can’t help but look.
no amount of clever words can explain it
the laughter of peacefulness
or this crowded city of nothingness
that chatters away like a gaggle of geese
religion wants me to have faith
in something other
and prayers go unanswered most nights
make no mistake
—None of them mine.