Poetic Justice Warrior

They called me a poetic
justice warrior;

sentry guarding borders
between the irony of
absolutes and burdens
of proof,
mutually
ignored.

For richer or poorer,
I’m porcelain,
slips of the tongue away from
conciliatory
tones that
would sound almost beautiful with
context.

I always meant to
embrace the best that I could be
but got lost in
the breeze of my own monsoons,
kind of like waiting on the
moon to force
dawn’s hand
when we could’ve danced the
nights away.

In sickness and
health, I’m running on redemption’s
fumes, trying to make room for its
elephants
trying to
intrude on our couch of
comfortable doubts,

breaking down
the definition of walls.

Truth is,
I’ve never felt so involved
in games of chance, and your hand
in mine is
roughly
fifty-fifty.

Truth is, I’ve never walked among the
living like I do now.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Poetic Justice Warrior

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s