Dichotomy.

Haste to escape the
seeming mundane ashes of
a life no longer recognizable
as such,
So much for that iron face with
steel veins, shattered like glass
and tossed in the trash housing
guts of the rotting and
rancid remains of that thing that
once was,
Stabbing dull and rusty twisted
deep within,
Reminders, constant reminders,
so who was this again?

Deep refrane, the hole is
bigger than you thought,
So much for naught, wasted
in between, the suffering unseen
beneath the smiling guise,
Bound beneath a seeming clown
as the punchline of it all,
Is this the real one? Is this
that forgotten one?
Maybe in your minds' eye, the one
holding the gun, shaken, itching
to blast it all away,
Severing night from day, or so
you constantly pray...
-END-
D.C. Chapman
6/22/2011