i’m getting tired of

halves mights + maybes

punch drunk promises

noncommittal sympathy smiles

i need to excise + emerge


from under our

label loving lacquered jungle

protest against our sanctified addiction

to coloring inside the lines

with cautious crayons

but the verdant verde grass

beckoning across the picket fence

isn’t any better

seeing as i can’t slake my disgust

with our slick lust of lip service

+ empty gestures

it’s too easy to find excuses

for why not

instead of emerging from our

brilliant little boxes

to just be

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