On Phony Voyage

I know pain. I know sorrows. I know I know I know –
I know too that my tears deserve to be un-caged, let loose
And let them walk endlessly through the empty streets of
Existence. Empty? No. Through the stuffed cabins of life
With a sister known as Pretense that has other sisters who
Never show where it hurts. We just know our hearts burn.

I know now that I am tearing myself apart searching for that
Cursed guts of mine. The cursed Pretense, the cursed life.

‘Why always coat your lips with thick-red lipstick, smiling
Like you never knew that living is a prize to be won that can
Still wear the winner out?
Why pretend like all things are good, drinking to craze, laughing
Like a moron (who rarely has shame or pain), looking in the eyes
Of friends even when you know that you’re not searching for love,
strength or courage –
That you’re only rummaging through their archives to know
Where in their life it hurts the more?
To identify? To mock?’

I know why the world is made up of water. I know why hydrogen
Is nothing like oxygen but the two are forces that ruined the days of Noah.
I understand why crying is a sin and pretense is worth all the penny.

When you cry
Who cares to look into your eyes
For real and be touched?