IMAGINED SLIGHTS

IMAGINED SLIGHTS

What's one more imagined slight,
In the great grand scheme of things?
What's one more benign betrayal,
To add to my roster of broken dreams?

I feel rain with every breath I take,
Pain with every move I make.
Gracelessly I take up space,
Sand in my sneakers, egg on my face.

If the world hands me life, I hand it back.
The lust to go on I sorely lack.
If the whole world doesn't love me,
My heart it hastily hits the floor.
Detractors they stand high above me,
Useless debris washing up on their shore.

I am proud of who I am and proud of all I believe.
I dare to live my life out loud,
But I wear it all on my lonesome sleeve.
Not nearly as stable and staid as I seem,
Stripped naked and bare to the world's laser beam.

What's one more imagined slight,
In this dim house of mirrors known as my mind?
What's one more benign betrayal,
Downloaded in real time?

The garish clown with his floppy shoes,
The tabloid with its shocking news.
The circus tent is up and its freakish flag is flying.
My mascara it is running from the desperate tears I'm crying.

If I had a million dollars and a thousand screaming fans,
Like castles and like daydreams, I would turn it all to sand,
Real estate a bauble and mansions not worth the land.
Read my palm, my lifeline's weak,
The future's a cliffside, slippery and steep.
It's a raging tide I swim against,
My only relief the deep peace of sleep.

It's all of these imagined slights that gather in my brain,
A vast right wing conspiracy, a swift downpour of rain.
Guilt for the life I can no longer lead,
A hapless hemophiliac enjoying the bleed.
Choking on this surfeit of wasted space,
I stumble to the finish of my sluggish race.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note: I jokingly call this one "The Joy of Paranoia".