Lit eZine Vol 6 | p-10 | POETRY | Disposition Breeds Obsession

Those old dispositions 
self-uproot
from the mulch of memories
like welts 
on my night's hypothesized 
indifference;
irrational emotions huddled
under crust of frail health 
like tears wiped with onion skin.

Sullen in a tired lull, 
I immerse 
in a monotone of moods, 
musing on which of the lot
will emerge and seize the role 
of sentimental foil to my dogged 
anti-heroism.

I’ve been known to propagate 
surrealist comic book lifeforms;
I have been a scrappy Minotaur, 
packing horns dipped in mental haggis 
of obsessive fixations,
for the riot gear of matadors
feeding me the red swirls
of replenished adulation droughts.
Snorting 
and thwarted 
and hyperventilating,
I endure my stitches
in their grand design
subjugated,
until they reel off the names
of those who know me by 
my branding of a nickname,
that decrees for all eyes
that, upon their grading, 
I am no Norm.