The shrine of loneliness musing
where the truth of yourself could unfold,
the prison of your own choosing:
For the sake of coming out of your isolation,
to where the authenticity ought to withhold,
to where the honours
are sold,
you
must sell thy heart of gold!
you must dim the transparency of your voice,
you must say the things that you do not mean,
you must cork the things
from your heart of hearts choice,
you must clench your truth
out of the scene,
you must drench in blood
pulling your wisdom tooth,
you must clog up your spleen
with a plug of a counterfeit smile
cropping up on screen
forged on your chest like some thunder whims
shrunken to a peen,
you must dazzle in a fictitious sheen,
you must be smart
to muzzle your mouth,
to cap the thing squeezing your heart,
you must sit
in some fancy cafés,
sip on your fancy caffè lattes of clichés,
you must choke
silently
on the bitter sips of the words that aren’t forbidden to say.
you must weigh
your word against your gold,
you must pay
your soul away
in order to stay, yay.
