I chafe at the chaotic
happening of everything
surfing a wave of uncertainty
daily
and all the serious
well-to-do people
who have it all figured out
keep their neat little boxes
and call it “reality”
but the invented nature
of imputation
makes it more an “irreality”
projected figures dancing
what every thing weighs
as if its name holds the key

yet I can’t reconcile
the perverse hypocrisy
built-in
all the people with their truth
like pastors preaching
their breath reeks of drinks
of all the stories they told
to justify their passions
shiny faces smile
want to play perfect
beauty is for temptors and sinners
so many lies
countless ways to bend light
yet the bonds of love
are forged in imperfections
I’m caught in between
the roiling churn
and the passing dream

I’m a speck of dust
floating aimlessly
suspended
in a ray of sun
pushed and pulled
wherever the air sways
a breeze
a gust
a sneeze
always a breath away
from being
the empty
space