you say it’s all under control, this chanting

this odd habit to paint the sky with colored ribbons,

that the canvas smells like a web – to distill out

the many versions of truth.

what is it?

this belt can barely hold on to a a hip too

large, take in a deep breath. colored purple,

onlookers try to help: puff them away before

oops; belt snaps, pants down.

you see it don’t you?

this mischief called perception, it only holds for so

very long. till the oopsy daisy comes along. because

the body plays a joke on the mind; awareness means little

when breath hold only last less than a blink of an eye.

winks, but don’t accuse the lack of patience, to brush up a skill,

pride is an odd ball. tends to be best jester out there!

you can do it! fakes ignorance when the shoelace is untied,

trips. what a loud thud. embarrassed now;

quickly make up something, there, it’s the same circuit spinning,

weaving another believable tale.

like the fox with nine tales;

seduction is not a lie, it is an awareness,

you exchange freely, no hiccups right?

like the belt snapping, the mind snaps,

the heart breaks: it’s all flowing smoothly, this river.

nothing to be concerned about, all under control

when underestimation is unheard of; pride heaves.

you dare question me?

by now the crowd was silently judging, making snides,

under control till it is quite apparent

even to pride that something impossible is done.

feelings, warped skies, ribbons colored red, rain like sulphur

leaking beneath this ground;

it’s all upside down this logic, and you’re the best liar.