Criticise my imperfect state of mind, and unwind
the woven world of ideals bound, so tightly, around
my naked naivete; view reality through the painfully
transparent lens of skepticism, discount it with realism -
but don't taint my words -
don't smooth over their rough edges with slippery varnish
so they slide in and out of the mind as seamlessly as a
mantra, or the hauntingly beautiful anthem of the new age;
they are as whole as I am incomplete, closer to me
than the ground beneath my feet.
