Treasure Island

jerome moore


Whats it like planting a lie in your psych profound enough
to change your perspective and stunt your development?

I suppose it is much like seeing out of dirty foggy glasses
or a pair with a slight and unnoticeable
indistinguishable scratch in them.

Mushroom monster
all insecurities laid out in a synergy of
your worse fears and attributes materialized from shadow.

Sentences spin around my head before I speak them
one little flower Growing in the crack of a side walk
chases the blues away
the throes of loneliness alienation stigmatism
out of body one consciousness
Hiding behind the neon night.
under the trash taken by the breeze.
in the oil slick pools of rainwater.
the loose concrete.
its only ten minutes back
back to my friends
back to reality
or have I walking, collided with it
like walking into a spiders web
so fragile and weak
the spider will not have food
nor home
the spider will rebuild without fear.

I speak and each word has a flavor
unsavory intensifiers
and sweet compliments
and stale lies and rich cogito
Lurks inside me as my shower feeds my flesh
as the rainwater feeds my garden
as the irrigation feeds my neighbors
as the toilet tank empties into the sea
as salve coats my tongue
and I bring joy to my peers
Am I holding the mirror or are they,
or are we swimming in the same tide?
I feel the stem of my flower pulsate
and exfoliate a vivid yellow
to a droll black and grey nightmare
I the buds tender and youthful sting my palms
and the next time I fall down I may not get up
I may float with the pollen and fall with the rain
and stagnate with the autumnal leaves
mendicant of all the beauty of the earth.

Submitted: Sunday, August 18, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, August 20, 2013

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