Smile

I’ll bear it because its the crown I’ve earned, the crown that fits with an awkward sense of comfort and familiarity. The crown I take off and hide in the closet because it isn’t me, though I always find myself at that door.

The opening,

Closing,

Soft feelings of smooth silk,

Royal robes,

To be king,

In a court of those

Who, unlike thee,

Do not look, do not seek

Yet find,

But its me.

Mine.

Yours.

Theirs.

They’ve found the map,

The treasure,

Pyrite,

but is it?

Is it.

Is it?

Trapped in a world of reused lines from sitcoms of long past we place together the things that give us the joy that life seems to have the greatest ability to take away.

Its not dancing its sex

Its not love its war,

Its not live,

Cause its already recorded.