August 23, 2025Missive

There are times

politicstimeloveidentitysolitude

There are times

When I fall into an abyss

Of introspection.

The wonder is nobody knows,

Maybe they do

What of it?

Sometimes the worst

Of things can stand before us

Undetected.

How would we know

The suicide from the murderer

The philanderer

The rapist,

The paedophile

Surely would stand out.

We would know

Would we, though?

Do the worst of us

Smell bad?

There are no beacons

Facial features

Telltale signs,

No hair or eye colour

No giveaway,

Life is not a screenplay.

Is it a feeling

An unsettling

Dyspepsia, a reflux

As the body gives a warning.

Do they eat alone

As part of a group

Hunt in packs

Live largely undetected

Without bringing attention

To themselves.

Do we turn our backs?

Look the other way

Misread the signs

Look for the quiet life

And find only pain.

What do I know

I’ve done it again

Drifted off

Into another timeline.

Where people wear

Their hearts on their sleeves

And everybody knows

What everybody knows.

Gosh, now I think about it

That would be awful.

No privacy

No secrets

No inner self.