Innocuous Virtues

I'm not spineless, I'm spiny
Faking delusions of grandeur
While my mind is tiny
Even though my temple is a door
and
I coat my esophagus with honey sometimes
Like a sarcophagus for bees
Expecting to choke hard enough
To swallow my throat
and
That's why I never say hello
and
That's why I never tell you how beautiful you are
and
That's why I never forgive myself
Because I do these foolish things
to myself
and
I don't know why

Have you ever looked in the mirror
To find unfamiliar eyes?

And as I pondered metaphorical imprisonment
From a privileged meager slipping away
I saw through an obscuring glass
A few futures past while I dichotomized
Into a crumbling Janus for Ganesha
To spit a peanut in my eye -
Only he looked more like Babar -
And I found the meaning of life
In a Robert Frost poem

And I sat up all hours in a room without windows
Crying myself to death thinking about never living again -
No sun, no moon -
And what's it like to have freedom or other such words
Becoming tangible and within reach

We all want freedom from this body
That sees everything we do,
And keeps all our secrets that make us human,
But we can't see it if we lose touch
and
We always do
and
That's why I'm having trouble remembering you
Because I never let you in too close
and
That's why I'm so afraid
and
That's why I don't jump at the dangling pome -
Fleshy false fruit -
and
That's why I'm going hungry
Even though I'm a glutton
and
Six other innocuous virtues
Pertain

mondegreen

"Pax Americana infidelis"
I think we can all concur.
To hell with vicarious mass murder!
I led the pigeons to the fucking flag...
And they shit themselves, worshipped it,
Were diseases with beaks, and so for weeks they shot up heroin
And snorted mountains of blow
Until we waves crashed into the sides of a glass.
The world is flat and that's a fact:
Cling or fall off.
Just try to drift - you won't last with raging bellies sewn on.
Catch-22 replaces dragons slain,
Producing Gordian Knots in our throat -
Alexander claims he can cut them,
By inventing more of the same war.
They thought they had us firmly in their hands,
But all they have is a 200 plus year lie
And a mound of clocks.
So Bentham laid the groundwork, so the world
Was compressed and fitted into a box behind a screen.
Suddenly the one way window loses its sheen.
I prefer the mondegreen.