There’s a shadow on my back,
watching, listening—
I feel compelled to answer
to the son-of-a-bitch!
Meanwhile, meanwhile,
I don’t want to be censored!
Why do I have to explain myself?
To you,
and you…
And fuck him quite honestly—
R e v o l t!
That’s about the time I start—
To retract my common sense,
go all whiny like a six year old:
Stepping-up on my toes,
pushing my heels outward,
pulling-up on the hem of my skirt,
contorting my arms behind my head —
with excuses!!!
And I hate the weakness.
You just want to piss yourself!
When God gave some authority the right,
to manipulate your mind —
You learned
well,
the anxiety.
Control, control…
Repress the anger.
Fear and stuff it down
with a good dose of salty-sweet…
Blood on your teeth.
Attitude—
Possess it!
You know,
pretend…
Take steps into,
1, 2, 3…
Whoever you need to be:
S a f e.
–
They talk about between,
in the grey—
but you know,
you know…
There’s only black and white.
It’s shown those
pearly-fangs
in the darkest-dark.
Even when you’re aware…
It’s better not to be right,
become entangled
in how to choose everything
w i s e l y-
Until you go mad
searching for yourself—
And how brave it is:
To be you.
C o n f e s s…
–
Admittedly!
Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved
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