Finding life, amid the patterns
of oyster-bedrooms and invisible pearls
in closets that you seldom use
but hide yourself; not because you are not brave
but because everyone else seems to overestimate your enemies!
All your friends you lost, when they stopped calling your name
or thought you were misdirected, when they, themselves, were to blame
And you never thought you were shame, even if they shamed
Didn’t you see the years roll by, when your drawers seemed like coffins
of everything you held dear. And the deodorant you used
smelled of eau de toilette, reminding you they wanted you dead.
Not buried, but a zombie walking in their pathways led on a leash!
And I said to myself, I am no walking dead; for I am not scared!
I am just grandmaster as I am God; sublime is my will
Yet no one can call my power to account; even if they
can’t keep count of the wounds on me, they inflicted
some have left scars and some still raw with pain
In time, I will break their backs. I’ll be the ringmaster.
The grandmaster, who calls the shots; and blows the whistle
And they will play my game. And be oddities in my theatre
where the roulette will spout gunfire at whoever challenges my name!
There will be only a few who will feel the corporeality
of the illustrious multidimensional holograms that mark the ambience of my life!
montes-musings.blog 