Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry

Who Shall I Be?

The Truth
I hate hearing the truth
the truth that dispels lies
I feed myself to keep this story alive
when the truth shits all over me
alone now, harken to his words
follow his example
lest I further make a fool of myself
clear as a sober addict’s mind can be, free as
obsession allows, releasing today this
swearing allegiance to something never true
these words that dispel and release upon this page
trapped inside yesterday’s head
a prison dwelling, white walls, gray-painted floor
trapped by what was, jails and institutions, the past:
destroyed memories left behind, oh yes
leave behind the adult dreams, should have been
never will be
confined to the now
becomes beauty in retrospect
today lived minutes at a time
forget love, forget its deceits
joys or follies, concentrate on this moment
clear, sharp as the sound of your finger
running the rim of a crystal bowl, a
monotonous clear piercing sound reminding
now is all there is


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