it’s been said that anger is a gift

then that makes me woefully regifted

restricted

evicted and tossed out alive

if patience is a virtue

i must be virtuous

but virtue is a saving grace

saving face

facing the consequences of sequential animosity

anonymous

the faceless face of infinity

floating ever closer yet farther away

watch a dead man float

oh how the dead can float

dead pan laughter

do the dead men joke

while cluttering up the rivers and streams that fill the reservoirs

reservations of irreverent reverence

an agitating activist like a patient virtuoso

so if patience is a virtue

and virtue is a grace

then by tumbling through the water works

a life line lost in solitude

hollow words and carrying an off key tune

i’m a knight in patchwork armor

and if ignorance is bliss

it explains my sleepless nights

feeling like a masochist

without the happy ending