Questions We Hide From Ourselves

What is it that glitters

on the street corner

and in every living room

that image of spray-painted value

celebrated by celebrities

that golden statue that starts to peel under the slightest pressure

what time is it when the superficial

is heralded as a deeper revelation

and the best conversation

is said to be one that doesn’t question

the wisdom of our favorite idea salesman

can we say that we were loved when our relationships

don’t last any longer than the night

where our pain was created

leaving us wanting

roaming our lonely apartment

talking to a gang of walls

that refuse to answer

our silent plea for life

who are we really if we only repeat the ideas

we are spoon-fed through a world of media

in our living room where our hope is dying

in our frantic search for distraction

from reality

that strange reality

that truth that underlies all we are

but we are afraid to see