*
-identity crisis-
*by someone who walks by himself for a reason*
(frankie leone, just a man)
*
*like a maladjusted teenager
orbiting reality, exploded on angel dust
i’ve tried to pulverize the image
of who i might be
-
or like a thorough crook
strung out on the acquisition of wealth
-
hide the origins of who i am
-
laundering my identity
through a series of intermediaries
-
but after a lifetime of fighting and hiding
i’ve grown weary
-
and can no longer afford the luxury of fear
-
i’ve come to face the mirror of who i’ve been
in hopes of finding brutal clarity
on who i am
-
there will be no flinching
as i stare at the past
to find my present
-
i stand here
by myself
armed with exhaustion and desperation
-
to catalogue some of the stops
on my subway ride
through this human’s experience*
*
*the kid on the street
-
with nothing to lose
convinced there’s nothing to gain
-
you don’t know what’s hidden in my pockets
that may or may not motivate you
to stop running your mouth
-
or why i’m so dedicated
to stop you from vocalizing your opinions
-
but you do know i’ll try to use it
because that’s what i do*
*
*the punk rocker
-
swearing allegiance to an army
that guarantees i won’t be negotiated for
after legions of bottles, glue tubes, and syringes
-
overtake
-
aligning with this religion
that will never identify itself as one
-
in beds, bathrooms, and train cars
making despondent love
-
to its hazy mistresses wearing corresponding uniforms
of torn fish-nets and black eyeliner
-
and walking to the beat of sloppy drums
and inconsistent power chords
under a black flag
-
reeking of body odor*
*
*the tough guy
-
banging to the sound of years combusting
respecting alleyways and avenues
that aren’t familiar with this concept
-
loyal to a crew of ever shifting faces
raising arms ending with clenched fists
covering in r.i.p. tattoos
-
you know
when things go too far south between us
for either of us to fly home for the spring
-
i’ll be there on time
with minions wearing skin functioning as masks
-
and it won’t be to talk*
*
*the fuck star
-
twisting my face
into disingenuous expressions of ecstasy
-
giving the camera my most personal moments
like a lukewarm handshake
because i’ve been blessed
-
with these flexible morals
and big cock
-
numbing reservations with complimentary
powders and liquids
-
to soldier through the next filming
-
under the impression
i’m providing a valuable service
and the one really in control*
*
*the junky mercenary
-
following whoever’s money
to the next fix
-
as my liver dies
and the crooks of my arms
bruise and abscess
-
rallying behind the next opportunity
to fight, fuck, or steal
-
not because there’s pleasure in it anymore
but because there hasn’t been another option
for quite some time
-
i can’t remember
what i’m trying to forget at this point but
-
hitting the snooze button on my emotions
has taken priority over the possibility
for real friends
a loving family
and the hope to live to my next birthday*
*
*the imprisoned criminal in the free world
-
who won’t give up bondage
watching people who have a liberty
i believe i’ve taken from myself permanently
-
unaware the keys to my cuffs
lay in my lap*
*
*a man who’s seen more than i should’ve
-
because i’ve seen too little
of things in front of my eyes all along
-
a lost boy who sees into a tarry darkness
filled with funhouse mirrors*
*
*the poet
-
walking the street in my own shadows
unable to move passed things that need to be
but recording them so others will
-
in hopes of proving i’m not a monster
to the city around me
-
but more importantly, myself*
*
*the enlightened madman
-
who stands behind convictions
i won’t surrender
-
even after laying my own world to waste*
*
*the life force of the rager
-
making the superficially beautiful smile
professionally
-
pouring drink after drink after drink
to people who surrender some autonomy
-
to me, a man they don’t know
but don’t feel threatened by
-
because others don’t
i have a decent dance move or two
and am not a bad kisser*
*
*i have been these things
among many others
-
maybe still am
-
but after poring over these reflections
they haven’t ceased to exist
just ceased to frighten
-
because while i don’t desire to turn my back
to the days ahead
to watch yesterday try to run up on me
-
i no longer feel compelled to lock my head forward
to avoid the vision
-
giving up this tug-of-war
makes things easier on my neck in the moment
-
and makes walking into tomorrow less difficult.*
*
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