Skeleton In the Cupboard

deep inside (back behind the eyes &
down within the depths of the body,
distant & buried out in the darkness
of the fullness of the heart---not drained
or soaked yet with the energies 
needed for an extended human life),
a
lack 
of
genuine
honesty
with
the
self
occurs---
knowing this accidental
collision of sperm & egg
now makes up the lifespan
of this hollow shell walking on
two legs, it is a near
impossible task for
many, so the 
way to deal is to develop
stories that one tells themselves
in order to keep calm
in order to keep from sawing off
one’s own
head &
these stories are piled
one on top of the next,
whilst they have been spun throughout 
ages, passed on down &
passed on down,
so as to create the greatest pool of
cowardice & lies
cowardice & lies
cowardice & lies,
because within whatever the
“truest” part of the self
is the knowledge that
not one iota of it all
means a thing &
no matter how many lies
one develops to convince 
themselves otherwise
will keep it all from 
ceasing.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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