the usual mess

Self-valuable and secure 
approaches to being are 
in shorter supply, the more 
we compete in shit contests 
with validation-seekers. "I" 

is the unit of participation.

In life, this is unavoidable, 
but we choose whether role 
or pose is our fallback go-to 
mode, and what we lead with 

is intent 
or purpose 
or goal 
or aim. 

Nobody knows which we chose, 
unless we tell them, as we stalk 
the world like antelopes, hate 
shimmering off us in waves, 
unabsorbed. Vile ego hounds 
think we think we're so special 
but you could've told us! We 

don't 
really 
navigate 
by that star. 

Who are we? 
The 
heathen. 
But never the infidels