Wouldacoulda

It may have changed

It may have stopped

The penny may have finally dropped

It may have been

It may have not

I may have had another shot

Slipping in regrets

A wily barracuda

Whispering in gleeful sets

Yashouldawouldacoulda

Paradigm shifts

Pink lenses cloud my vision

As if all the shit on earth is rosy

And somehow camouflaged

By cheap plastic frames and a two-bit glue job. 

Take them off? The cheek!

To see the world for all it's gore

To see your colours true unfold?

I'm too naive, to weak. 

Rather let me see through fuchsia fantasy

View your malice with a hue of blush

It may hurt more this way

But dear lord what's the rush. 

Dereligious

I believe in things that are strange
And things that are interesting
Just to have things to believe.
Little things seem to be directing
digging, and nesting
Missing the forest for leaves.

I met a man who wasn't there

He wasn't there upon the stair
Not yesterday, or before.
He wasn't there when I looked today.
I don't think I shall look some more.

The man, that one, upon the stair,
Is not the one you're feeling for.
Your vision isn't being fair.
Feel for, look for more.