Midway, Way Poem by C.D. Xiang

My life
is built on
red herrings dissensions,
a house of cards
carefully crafted out
of willful denial and partial lies
with each placard placed
precariously atop its skewed foundation.

A gentle gust from the vacuous pit
spitting its bitter indifference
threatens my sophisticated artistry,
and in horror of reckoning the possibilities,
I strive to protect
from utter wreck my paramount investment:
that delicate balance of authenticity
and self-deception

so crucially contrived that is
self-evident, but nevertheless
still required for me to have faith.