Accessories to the Crime
Our hopes are chains around us we have locked.
Reality sits just beyond our reach
Because our daydreams find that they are shocked
By facts. We learn too late that we can’t breach
The stainless links of optimism shaped
By dreams. We’re manacled and trapped inside
Them. Actuality might help. It’s raped
While being held down by those chains. Our pride
Requires unblemished fantasies like porn
Stars. Never mind that they just shine on screens
With lube and tissues nearby. Hair is shorn
And perfect nakedness makes up the scenes
We can’t relinquish—moaning, heaving youth.
We much prefer our dreams to boring truth.
November 26, 2019