a stark refusal
to accept
the clouded truth
a terminal need
to clear the air
rather than let
inferred actions
settle as fact
a consistent push
for villification
instead of
seeing both angles
to find the
mythical middle
in which reality
nestles violently

the human condition
is a myopic illusion
where intentions
are fluid dependent
upon chemical bath
but there must be
a hint of common
ground in which to
parse the fog banks
and see without the
influence of the
accumlated scars into
the heart of matters

gelatin astronauts
piloting meat mechs
through a battlefield
of assorted delusions
unable to see the
same setting in a way
that breeds commonality
yet trying desperately
to find a balance
in an insanity of
disparate glimpses
as we slowly breakdown
into angry flares in
a tumultuous tailspin
leaving craters across
the landscapes we roam
in loneliness seeking
moments of connection
to assure us it is
somewhat more real than
the pains we inflict
upon ourselves as we
strive to be better
only to fail once more