Full of it

You know I am full of it
Anger, selfishness, loss, fear, greed, desire, love
All those human things I have in me, somewhere
And I cherry pick them, one by one, day by day
Claiming some and denying others
It doesn't really matter why I do it really
I do it to make myself look better
But nobody is fooled.

I tell myself all kinds of things, some of them are even true
I make my way every day one step after the other
Trying to get it done easily and simply, without effort
Without investment of who I really am at all
Destitute of value in myself, I take the shine of other things
And claim it is my own brilliance making the world sparkle
But nobody is fooled.

I was a lousy, lying thief as a child
Then as I got older, I got worse, I did really
Endlessly round and round the same insecurities
Totally without foundation, without touch or sound
I was complete in myself, perfect and uneeding refinement
And when I crossed that rubicon, that trans river
I thought myself reinvented and perfected
But nobody was fooled.

I suppose I'l die much as I lived, that's the way it works
Isn't it supposed to be that we are denied what we deny others
Aren't we most supposed to regret that which we refused to recognize
Haven't I told this to others often enough in my pride
That I was somehow different, somebody better than that
More aware than they who failed to see in me what I imagined
If pigs could fly I'd be believable
But nobody was fooled.

Except me, the largest irony, fool to my own fool.
Not of any use to anyone else, I am no more use to myself
There's nothing for me to fear, for I am degraded already
I am the worst of my illusions and the folly of my worst dread
And it doesn't matter, not to me, and not to anyone else
I don't even know why I don't just die
But I haven't the courage for that - never you fear
I can fool myself no longer
I am done. I can't even write a good poem anymore.


creative commons