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A Canvas, A Tarp
Something's a lie.
It's not tangible
and I can't grab it.
But I can have it
if I try.
I can shape the darkness enough
to stab it.
And bleed
temptation's cries
onto pearl tongues...
Up ahead, they talk
in chorus
through dirty chimes
and masked cries...
They abhor us
for spreading our filth divine and pure...
Past city streets obscure
and night club glows,
a social tarp
pops off,
reveals
we've learned to speak
no more than half
of what we feel...
There's a silk canvas
on the sidewalk.
We can all pass by,
brush in hand --
and spread blazen acid streaks
of piercing pain(t)
til cloth erodes...
But down the street
a canvas still stands,
polluted only with thin
diluted water-color spirit strands...
and playground dirt is dumbed down
to a lumpless sand,
where children are taught to calmly say,
"I'm not clean,
but at least you think I am."
