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I wear an effacing
                  kaleidoscope
                       disguised with colours
                                shapes and patterns
                           on a visage coyly laced in
                                      fabric misanthrope
                        with unpulled woollies
             under disregarded eyeful shards
                         sawn and shattered.
                              I loathe the lens
                       that I’m purviewed through
                                               and the friends
                                          I can’t allude to
                     unpleasant is the ocean’s end
                                       of the spyglass
                                         I boo-hoo through
                              why did I try to pretend?
           I yearn for the courage to perform
                            an optical iconoclast
    and burn those judge’s visions scorned
              like tropical bombs ablast
        that carry and deliver me discerned
on currach-ed wings to peaceful shores.

© poormansdreams

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