Meditating Behind a Double-Pane

Sometimes I’m split like a double-pane

between pride and shame

hunger for fame

despite my unwillingness to speak its name

 

I’m a two-headed boy

unable to write my Ode to Joy

forged hollow alloy

with an exterior I seek to destroy

 

I’m windswept in a vacuum

I’m charred by water

I’m lost in its fumes

I’m a sham for slaughter

 

I’m a liar who holds the truth in high regard

while clenching down on a broken jaw

and pours “I love you” in gasoline

to the reveries contained by the double-pane