The Sandpit

I dragged myself to the confrontation
Searching for clarity amidst confusion.
Dredging my insecurities like offal
Out of a public kindergarten sandpit.
And in the deodorized globalised marketplace
My ass was sorry for truth.
Smells in public ain't pleasant.
The People with impeccable insecurity
Turn nasty in split-second perfumed insularity.
No trespass you little truth fucker.
Sure,we've got more sand for you.
And so I get sick of wearing the penance.
Reading the the illusion of permanence
Like a daily newspaper printed on my retina.
Sweet smelling company, sweet,
Confused but without confrontation.
Easier to be drunkenly charismatic
And prowling for pleasure with my prick.
Than challenging the status-quo of the sandpit.
The middle way is elusive.