Tune In

I am not trying to create some sort of lifestyle
my head is tuning-in to another dial.
I embrace sedition until a trial by fire
and the turpitude of your servitude
fills my mouth with bile.

I turn away, but your image I file
into my mind - drilled, the immense magnitude
of your liaison fair attitude
leaving carnage in the wake of your blunders
pretending to be some sort of transcendental wonder
when all I want to do is break free and fall under
the radar before a cut by the rudder.

Beguiled by your need to compile
things and people into an organized pile
of ownership, then carry out your denial
that you played any part in your own hostile
game of life filled with false pretense and artistic style.

I gaze and I wonder at your images, amazed
how you can live with yourself in a haze
of smoke and vanity convinced that it had to be
the only way. Evolve or break free,
one day you might have the power to see
all the good that would have come from you and me.

Fodder for my mental appetite,
with dreams and wishes I hold tight
to push through this fight
you aggravate and tempt me with your utter silence
and all the while it is heavy, laden with pretense.