Punchinello-Zerodom

To peer down from the pseudo-security of being above it all,
where that anywhere/everywhere place of delusional control
runs the risk of being drawn in the milieu of ugliness,
the hypocrisy of endless orbits of fantasy,
where rouge adorns aged sunken faces,
Tiffany jewels shackle shriveled wrists
and colored inks-of-identity render sallow skin
but a decorative escape from who we wish we weren’t.

Yes…

Life’s puppet show appears charming,
even entertaining to the seeker of diversion,
especially where emptiness of principal allows
the lock-step of seduction to kick volatile kindling
into the path of annihilation,
igniting the simple spark of fear’s consummate flame.

Yet…

Some of us choose to render such a stage empty,
vanquishing the strings of manipulation,
abandoning the Punchinello existence of attachment’s strings,
opting instead the simple breathing of stress and syllable
finding the magic of words can lift author and reader alike
into the vastness of humankind’s heart and mind,
allowing such rarefied independence
to take us farther and farther from zerodom’s trap.