Your secret life has become vexing even to yourself.
Your reality fix has also become addicting,
upstandingness is on overwhelm,
subtle anger driven service to others is self-toxic.
Emotionality is over extended but under enthused.
The wardrobe about your story line is overused.
Where did the nudity within you
loose it sensitivity to be richly warn?
Inspired interpretations aside,
all of your connections wind up
in a personal private self-vexing mode.
Your little black book has festered in a digestive manner.
All others around you become mannequins
to this, as their unknown.
And you, who weave the silver thread around others
to give it to them as the light of their day!
Maybe you dared yourself to become relevant
or important or justified as a form of joyous seething.
You have now developed eyes for seeing in total darkness.
Why have a disease when you have so much else to share
in your masterful alliegence and sevice to others?
You will go down
as being so monumentally important to all of them.
You were and you did. Your death is near.
It’s too late now, for an introduction.
Come back soon, I miss you,
and your avoiding me . . .