I’m Moon

to all the pain and discomfort,
too far removed,
to feel how you hate us,
a suspended satellite,
in permanent hiatus,
your soft touch,
raising hard hearts,
self-obsessed status:

… the hurting you’re merking,
how you dish out your dirt, in
creasing the stakes,
and the flakes that you mate with,
the bait that you rate,
and the work that you’re late with,
raking up the past,
‘cos you can’t face your face still…

attempting to demean me,
when you’re timed down,
with double murder,
your flavour is flawed,
and you still take it further,
a fraudulent love,
both home and away,
desperately living,
clinging to two fates:

… when you’re fixed up shut,
too tired to displace display,
your welcome’s out, standing,
your game’s out, played,
and for someone who lives,
to live for appearance sake,
you’re coloured in and shadier,
than fifty shades of grey…

tears of a clown,
when you willingly con and front us,
your yard circus,
so seemingly innocent,
an attempt to entrap us,
paired hollow circles,
depthless circumference,
when you confront us,
forcing us into corners,
as if silence can hurt us,

carnivorous are amongst us,
dog eat dog it’s cannibalistic,
vent out you’re victim too,
on a whim to believing,
you’re on point:
when in truth,
you just want to fuck us,
point and shoot,
over and out,

…showing everybody everything,
that’s what you’re all about,
and you step to me screaming,
like I’m the one teeming,
in doubt, tag teams,
trying to verse single souls,
it’s time to shutup,
your shit’s getting old…

you take no heed,
and there you commence,
starting up mental,
your violence makes no sense,
towering over me all dark,
waiting for recompense,
I shout you back,
sitting tight in scribed offence,
holding out arms,
that once held you in defence,

but it is as it is,
watching your atoms split,
your reality shifts, 
trapped in circumstance,
another dead-end, it’s
life playing out,
defined artifacts,
all forces suspended.
Completed circuit.

ink is free, so...

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