Pretty smiles, pretty walks

When he’s distracted – by a pretty smile
or pretty walk – when ego has distracted
id, he senses the existential moments

Moments when his evanesce into periphery
isn’t paramount; he’s inconspicuous in
a spotlight, living amongst the living

Not a shadowed pock at its center,
quaquaversally thrusting hands with
fingers of hands in fractal perpetuity

But a being like any other, with the
same chances and lack of chances,
iustitia and prudentia upon his shoulders

Then nature takes hold, quite without his
own intervention, rampaging id reminds
him who he is, what he is, how he is

Reminds him that pretty smiles seek
out pretty smiles and pretty walks travel
in vastly different circles

So his eyes fall upon his path, his heart falls
out of favor, his walk leads him tangentially,
and his id bears the only smile

He’ll exist in this life out of focus, and
remain off-center of attention, before he
finally disappears in a blur

art: Verklärte Nacht by Antonio Palmerini

What is the reason for being

Happy people aren’t trying to mock you
Happy people don’t even notice you
Or they fear being swallowed by the likes of you

Couples don’t hold hands to smite you
Couples hold hands to be attached
Or to keep the other hands from wandering

The woman isn’t parading for your eyes
The woman is parading for her own eyes
Or for her rival, best friend’s

The man isn’t posturing for your enjoyment
The man is posturing for his verile egoism
Or to fulfill his inherent simplicism

They aren’t interested in what you have to say
They praise you to flaunt their magnaminity
Or to entice you to flaunt yours to them

Light isn’t there to pierce the darkness
Light is there for the enlightened
Or for those who can’t see in the dark

The world doesn’t care that you’re here
The world doesn’t even know you exist
Or in its death throes has forgotten

The truth is unconcerned by your beliefs
The truth is cold, unerring adamant
So you have your own truths there to protect you