All this self awareness is starting to get confusing
you know you make me feel dumb
all this self awareness is starting to get confusing,
no longer able to pretend you aren’t batshit crazy
you get your craziness
in dollops of thick honey
submerged into oceans of tea
or waxy crayons dipped toward a newspaper
time to interrupt all the commercial rules
with one insolent stroke
the glass is overflowing with red wine–
the blood of your awareness.
So then what happens?
are we suddenly futile
to the pastures and the brim,
are my eyes trimming light
or are they bulldozing it in acres?
All this self awareness has convinced me it is better this way
that i would hate my many selves
without all the universal guilt.
The guilt isn’t mine– i know. Or yours. The guilt is not ours
it does not belong.
But we are bombarded by the bards of vanity
who have gone blind over the specter of golden sepulchers and thrones inhabited by sequin eyed vixens
It isn’t their guilt either.
After all this self awareness
do I burst
and become a baby of the universe?