22 (Feast of Lies)

deception is a candle that
chokes itself out, relights,
suffocates, relights,
smothers, rekindles, until
it isn’t a candle at all
anymore,
not even adept imitation,
merely ball of amorphous
wax that can no longer
reignite, no smoke left
to spark, no wick for the
fire to feed on

crisis averted
reverted to crisis,
production mode kicks in,
the feast of lies commences,
all HD Technicolor bullshit
from here, just a matter
of stirring the shit
around until it becomes
something that resembles
original sin

let imperfection play the
star pretender, while perfect
will the falsehood be,
let true direction be misdirection
that leads you in the
direction, the one you need to move,
let, of course, the games begin,
may the best loser fail as
miserably as they can

Poem by Shane Douglas Keene

READ THE SERIAL NOVEL BY JOSH MALERMAN