Priorities
Every moment takes something of me.
I want to stay complete, perfectly posturing.
Like the man in the portrait, vital and free.
He is preserved, so why should I decay?The frame, the canvas and my desire is met
for a vessel to contain excess and vice.
Blistered and leaking, the paint is still wet,
the tortured image reflecting my engagements.
My smile, false in youth, didn’t have a reason.
It was vanity shining, and for the moment convincing.
Like an impatient orchid, in bloom out of season,
to be frostbitten, punished, confessing deceit.
There is nothing so terrifying as being certain of something.
The tragedy of inevitability, I cannot escape the fact (that)
I am gradually losing all you see in me.
The clouds are gathering all across my sky
Remember who I was, forget who I will be.
I am gradually losing all you see in me.
The lines in my frown read;
“What goes up will often come down”
They found me cold and still, wearing a smile as twisted as my priorities.