psychotic
is different
than occasionally
manic…
sensitivity
is vastly different
from the
darkened caves
of depression…
as mean-spirited
is not akin
to friendly banter
as criticism
laced with another’s
perspective
is not
akin
to hatred
or visionary prowess…
as name-calling
is not carried
off schoolyard concrete
into the streets
beyond
a hoped for
brevity
during
youthful ignorance…
for some
names move in
taking up
permanent residency
deep under
the derma
sticking glue-like
an aged amber
honey
dried and lacking taste
or sweetness..
it damages
(it can’t be helped)…
no matter what
the truth
the overly-sensitive
take and possess
the negative
beginning to
question
their own fragile
composition…
attack if you
must
the placement
of words on a page
rather than
the validity
of content…
like the man said:
“we are not friends here”…
this, the reminder
that flies in the face
of who i’ve always
been
seems odd
yet sadly appropriate
in these days
of humanity’s
singular
self-involved
ways
today
where cruelty
trumps kindness
and honesty
any day…
