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Bone is gay.
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Ritual
IP:
with eyes still all shackled
in the blindest of traps, i'll;
risk my life, flick the lights on & rise to do battle
surprisingly rattled, now
i shake the five o'clock shadow;
coffee soaks in, for the moment life's defined by a tangle. .
a rec-tangle, that is.
& i gaze at it as a raving addict.
taking in my facial mask as one of life's contagious facets
a favorite practice, guiltily. .
sure, the word may be right -
but, i continue carefully, glimpsing in obscure shades of light.
from the right to the left, now
in spite & contempt. .
one illfated glimpse make tangle & life seem unkempt
entitled to sense, mine fail
& even stifle my rep, when -
a late or a tardy equates to an hour of mistitled 'detention'
the world calls, now
i laugh & don't accept the charges
a regretful car spins wheels, my startled heels
are incredibly charged, when. .
i catch that PERFECT glimpse,
& i'm finally cool.
til i realize: my smile's here. .
that is, three miles from school.
this is addiction - a shameful one at that.
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