[Author's note: Sometimes I worry that people will read my poems and think they are all based on events in my life. They aren't. I mean, some of them are, but many of them are based on my surroundings or mood amplified. Some aren't even about me at all. If I only wrote about myself I would kind of suck at this wouldn't I? Anyway, here's another poem for your reading pleasure. Enjoy.]
I wouldn't know what to do with adoration
I have no experience with that
But I thank you for your participation
And for being such a damn good sport
And I laugh in the face of your conflagration
That's what you get for your burning heart
For your words and meanings and lamentation
A ribbon-wrapped boot print for your pride
I am quite at home in my fortification
The walls I have built put me at ease
A warm bath has nothing on domination
Control is good to gnash my teeth too
You watch me watch you in your self-flagellation
I see you clawing against my fence
None of this is literal confrontation
I just want to see hope leave your eyes
Don't fool yourself; I'm not waiting for cessation
I put those hand holds there just for you
Much for tribute, but naught for decoration
Will you just Climb up here and fight me?
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