Bitter Truths
Sweet rot of old woods
Camouflages truth –
Pretending to be new.
Surface ornamentation, and
Seed pods
Lie about life beneath.
The leaf,
Long withered;
A stump, discolored –
Hints
Of bitterness
Seeping through.
Over-Simplification
We sketch our realities with great
Care, filling in details that are perpetually
Smudged out with a grain
Of salt, instead of charcoal or pencil, for perspective –
Revealing a pensive
Look; Or, shadows in trees.
Otherwise, every box is a square;
Every moon, a sliver;
Every truth, a dare.
But, for some reason
Even realism
Is abstract; even calm, is quiver.
Fatalism
If everything
Is anything,
And anything
Isn’t nothing
And nothing
Is something,
But something
Is definitely
Not everything,
Maybe everything
Amounts to nothing.
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