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there’s a goodness in being
no matter what I’ve seen
why do I short it credit
when proof of victories
lie as past joys
I ignored bleakly
discarded and old
the good old days’ glory
rose-colored woes fictionalized
from longing for ease
of mind and breathing
there’s a sadness in being
near insatiable
the ephemeral happy
wanes and takes back
the tide ravaging
the rock’s bed of protective
sands like time
eroded away the face
of my innermost beat
to a barely pulsing
that won’t let go
doggedly with a bone
compassion is thin
with the weight I lost
understanding thick
with remembered loss
gone yet still real to the touch
unique like each hand’s grasping
but common to all
the broken conditions
of promises undelivered
there’s a madness in me
that won’t completely
auto-correct and be free
still again I’m trapped
in the prison of my own making
this notion that frame
for a whole agenda
of self-interest
I’m so fucking disenchanted
with hope
I find myself appreciating
somehow a lot more
the slipping moment’s
working out the kinks
of life out there
I see right in the face
staring back at me
this makes no sense
I don’t get it
but here I am
still guessing
and making believe
this and that
then sick of the imaginary
and the paranoid
self-center of my world
that anyone is trying
to hurt me
they don’t mean me well
but they don’t mean me ill
but justify it to myself
again and again
the victim of my fears
I can’t afford to make it harder
for anyone else
to make sense of theirs
I get we’re all alone
but I’m a dog with a bone
and connect beyond the
straits of risky
is the only way to find out
I can almost feel it
a pearl is grit irritating
beneath it all
the oyster’s question
that rose in the girl
made by filtering pain
so what is happiness