dichotic whispers; they wish to believe.

one million thoughts on a million different days.
dichotic whispers debasing
morality in favor of a sordid,
primal discontent.
shallow ears listen with a feigned fervency,
affecting amicable associations:
      incoherent fallacies.

callous minds comment socially
on the sad state of affairs,
commending their caring words
and selfless, disingenuous actions.

the mind battles its own presence.

it hides behind its own
self-entertainment, believing
itself to be noble and effectual
and set. it pushes out
thoughts of enmity, marking them
off as echoes of television and literature
it has once seen or read or heard.

the darker minds write it down or
take it in, thus perpetrating the
primal perversion that never seems
to completely lose its grasp in base
human passions and prejudices.

fear and hatred consume even
those who abhor the thoughts.

those who hate the hatred
are not free from
hating themselves, and
hide their hideous, their
horrendous, their
failings.

nobody is as innocent as

They wish to believe.

i am an old fool,
      blind to his age
            and his fruitless attempts
  at importance,
              slave to the motions
      of a passionless world.

      i am
inconsequential;   i am
        oblivious;       i
am hurting; i am fooled.

my ignorance keeps me around;
my complacence keeps me alive.

i am fooled; i am blind;
i am empty; i am here.

syncopations

lies truth and heart
all wrapped up and churned out
in a flurry of syncopated
rhythms

dull emotions
contradicting senseless outbursts
forming a greater sense
of sanity through
off-timed bursts
of insanity
mirroring the predictable
unpredictability
of life