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what makes a man stand in the pouring rain?

what keeps him awake when the owls are busy?

what makes him see the light of day and feel pain?

what keeps him drunk cause without it he's dizzy?

nothing but love lost i say

to partake of its flesh

is to approach the forbidden with tact

for it cannot be peeled

or its rinds will leave spitefully,

citrus hairs behind

imbued with acrid bitterness

it must be cut in half

around the centre of the form

and not where the fruit

was attached to the pedicel

the curious might use fingers

and for the skeptic, a spoon will suffice

I don't impress them anymore

and that is fine by me

when i was blinder i couldn't see my worth

then bittersweetly, i can see

clearly, my value cannot be defined

by neither validation nor currency

gone were the days of the samaritan

to ungrateful yet suffering souls

who's greed for control & pain

turned me into a beast

that tony needed as a friend

when, i was a child back then

so that's why i say

i dont impress them anymore

no, i fascinate them now

and that was unexpected to me too

no longer am i unappreciated

nor do i assume positions to be

i go on about my days unphased

reposed in the warm bossom of solitude

replacing new ways with the odd & the old

my soul oscillates in gratitude