I take no mercy on the sinisterly masked entity that flaunts it's entire self around in my thoughts.
It's not truly evil nor is it a secret.
Everyone knows who it pretends to be, and what it actually is.
Tender, naive, and mostly incapable of being singularly attached to someone for too long.
It's sad, but nothing ever innocently turns out right.
Scathed are the impurities, and the constant battles with what's perceived to be right, and what's also looked at to be wrong.
I'm not saying I know the difference, nor to ask to be acclaimed for it as if I do.
It's just these constant unanswered questions are brewing inside me daily, and ignorance has blissfully surpassed me.
And all I really want there to be is someone honest, and true to themselves for that they align with what I try to hold pure and exemplify clearly as what could potentially be called myself.
It's too difficult to dream that way, the generation's infidelities, promiscuous qualities have all been praised over and praised over publicly by everybody, an easy, accessible way to put our children's children's self images astray.
I'm not trying to save the world, but even if I could, I don't think the blue and green polluted planet deserves itself a rescue.
It's been around too many times, lived with guilt freely, and a bystander's eye.
Why give it redemption.
Yet we must not forget the portions that are brilliant, though I want to so incredibly bad.
It'd be easier that way, just to bomb this entire place without notice of the performing arts, the radical intentions of the heroic, the brave.
I just don't see that all the time in modern day culture, at least as a majority.
Minority yes, and if I could just rest in that knowledge alone, I know I'd be happy.
But somehow knowing that small division exists, just isn't enough.
I want it to consume the universe, artistic raves, creative splurges, but there isn't enough prosperity for all, at least as far as originality goes.
There are leeches, cop outs, and plagiarists all around.
So, I suppose I should feel grateful that talent doesn't reek the place with it's exhilarated, profound scent.
Otherwise the entire world would be smelling like arrogant, brainy hens.
Nothing would stand out.
Atlas, I must let stupidity, blandness, and whores roam the place, while the in-depth, channeling always new ways to impress, inspire, relentlessly go on, just hopefully not as cowards.
The world needs them to be prominent fixtures if not consistently big in numbers.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.