Fumbling In The Trenches For Spectacles Poem by James Sides

I could salvage something from this mess
Some manic, diversion laughter
Some form of closeness, akin to
old strangers.

I put forth a guilty hand
In the hope that your recoil is
A lie like mine and every gesture
I make in any direction.

Love does not get lost,
Only it explodes and scatters
Into charlatans, harpies and sirens
Into every woman i've ever known

Every woman, with the coldest
And truest justice one will witness
Cold with their beauty
True with my shame

Judicious, with my hands
And songs
That say what my tongue will not
That blunder through a passion
Made ridiculous by just one timid soul

And mine returns to this
These unkempt pages,
This unkempt attire
This shell of existence which is the only life i've seen

Sensation is far from reach
Consolation is the most bitter of promises
And you dance in the gyre
Completely scheming
Completely oblivious
With the obscurity of the complacent
The careless
The indifferent