Guy Farmer

I can tell
As he's talking that
He's somewhere else.
...

In the middle of
All the noise,
The fake kisses and
Fabricated mirth,
...

They seem to only admire
What other people like,
As if the only element
That lends authenticity
...

She never quite
Trusted him,
Something about
The fake smile,
...

Thinking, behaving
In unison,
Each exactly as the other,
No variation,
...

For a while
It was no longer happening.
They wondered why.
It all returned to
...

Without any fanfare
He's not there anymore,
For no apparent reason.
Divergent lives,
...

Although she hadn't expected it
To take up so much time,
It did, requiring her
To set aside things
...

She does what
She was told to,
Not what she
Thinks she should,
...

It all seemed to be
Going so well,
Friendly, enthusiastic interactions
Jarringly replaced by something
...

Awful people covering
For others like them,
A putrid syndicate of
Craven aristocrats,
...

Sitting on a bench
In the middle of
A bustling park,
He spots a friend
...

Clutching his gleaming
Implement of death,
One of too many,
A fetish wrapped in
...