Blandness and Abuse

I am too good

to write of you

whose moods are none

but ill manners

savoring treats like one

of true contender

I am too bland

to speak your tongue

of anti-fantasy

and reposed self-abuse

You, in your

oblivious diplomacy

miraculously morose

what is there to reimburse

but these lies?

I am near-dusk

not yet dark

angular in refusal

heading North for Arrogance

and sixty-three counts

for wasteful confessions

May I insult

unstoppably?

Perhaps even selling

bits of ambition

like mature women

in their worrisome

inconvenience?

And I am too raw

to renounce mediocrity

A shadow

of everyone's doubt

fending immaturity

in my degenerative clone

Monday, February 25, 2013, 4:09 – 6:49 PM