S.S.D.D.

Finding fulfillment shouldn’t be
this difficult.
Perhaps looking for it
within would be
time better spent

Exhausted from trying, I
rebel at the prospect of
continuing; and yet
still I strive.

Am I just stuck
in a rut?
Arrested in my development and
seeking only other than
what I truly need.

Expression is nice, but the
sentiment soon seems
forced and insincere.
No truth comes from
these so-called revelations;
only confusion.

I am I, but that is not enough.
Purpose eludes with as
much vehemence as sleep.
My eyelids grow heavy as
the betrayal of my body manifests.
Though I may sleep, I will not rest.

And so goes another day.

by Erik Shinker

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Conviction

The other side
must
be wrong;
if not, then
how could we
be right?

Such sure, strong support
must be testament to
our correctness.

Their passion is
hypocritical,
not noticing the
paradoxes and double standards
in their own beliefs.

Our opposition tries to
bend facts to their aims,
in a bastardization of
the truths we hold to be
self-evident.

Two sides to
the same, divisive coin
with minuscule differences.
But that is not what
they
would have us believe.

When did empathy,
humanity, and
compassion
become weakness?

Have we become so
self-centered to believe that
what we want is
all that matters?

There are few things more
volatile
than a person of
blind conviction with
blessed belief
in their cause.

by Erik Shinker

Crush(ed)

Each day I sit and
beg with silent plea as
she passes by my desk.

Speak to me, or
let me speak to her.
But I lack the
courage, the
will, the
want.
More afraid that
she’ll say yes
than no.

Each morning I look
forward to those stolen glances, the
shy smiles that could be chalked
up to simple manners.

I would like something,
more, but this is all
I deserve.

She deserves better than
to be hit on at work.
Besides, she would
rather speak to
another.

By Erik Shinker

Downpour

Do not turn to me for
I can give no healing balm;
no soothing salve to your heartache.
Nor would I ask the same of you.

My words,
turned to gibberish by swollen tongue.
My ears,
stoppered by piercing plugs.
My eyes,
blinded by an unattainable visage.
My feelings,
filtered through apathy.

Skin thickened, though
not tough enough to keep
from fraying.

And yet here we lie; with
one another, to
one another, about
one another.

by Erik Shinker

Sainthood

Dealing in absolutes with
no thought of
humanity’s hypocrisy.

The daydreams of our
heroic yesterday have become
corrupted memories of
what was
never true.

Whose hand holds the
elevating pen while
simultaneously swiping through the
ugliness of ourselves
with the other?

Create an idol and
deny, deny, deny
when the reality would
contradict what our hearts
most want to be true.

Deify those we would see succeed, and
demonize those who oppose.
Lay the mantle of sainthood
upon the undeserving.

by Erik Shinker