i feel it deep inside, but let me distract you... and me

If I sat down to a blank screen
and simply started writing
whatever came to my mind
whatever I wanted
whatever my hands typed
would it be schlock?
Or brilliance unrecognized?
Perhaps a bit both,
in reality.
Let me just see...

~~~~

restrictions
rules
regulations
disapproving looks

the stuff of my dreams
or was that nightmares

Sunday Easter brunch
Should I wear my Easter bonnet?
Or floral dress?
Or perhaps really dark black eyeliner
and leather pants?

Except I’m vegetarian.
No leather pants for me
And no Easter ham.
I’m not missing much
I still have black eyeliner
and two eyes to line

I’ll be what they expect
or perhaps who they least expect
part of my urge to rebel is
pure shock value

part of my urge to rebel is
dissatisfaction with the
status quo

“if you aren’t outraged,
then you aren’t paying attention”

Sometimes I wonder if I’m paying a little
TOO MUCH attention
a microscope up to the nastiness of life
examining
learning
knowing
but perhaps warping my own sense of the world
as well

The lens we are looking through
affects everything
every molecule
every thought
every observation
I said everything

That lens helps us
and hurts us
all at the same time

I feel the hurt
from the world's wounds
deep inside
where it tickles me
uncomfortably

I can distract myself
with black eyeliner
and pleather pants
or with making you look at me
cuz I’m outrageous

yet that doesn’t change the hurt inside
it feels like a fungus that won’t leave