confession

We pushed uncomfortably close to

the edge of decency,

you know,

purposely.

Not that I wanted to shock

or titillate you.

“Hypocritically prurient” is how

you’d probably describe me,

were you to see past the boundaries

of form and decency

into my soul,

into the amorphous bio-gel currently

holding my scraggly frequency.

On the contrary, it was done

to liberate the mindlocked me,

to strip away the crusted layers

of what i’m thought,

or purport, to be

Laying bare the naked

Neither fish nor foul,

Neither here nor there

state of being,

state of affairs,

the every me

meaningful  intrinsically,

neither more nor less,

without reference to polarity

for Chrissake

to thumbprint, design

or muddling, Babel tainted

words.

So breathe, once again, my confrere

or, if you prefer, go

hang yourself

for all i care.

Indeed, it is cruel

to be kind

in the breathless world

of wilfully we

the blind

 

 

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