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,


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."

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