The Wrong Intuition

Endless buckets
Of freezing cold water
Thrown in my face
And dumped over my head.
Hard won truth,
Real talk,
And vanished illusions
Subconsciously absorbed
To be tearfully reconciled.

The scale lilts
Teetering between justice
And blind faith,
Overheard whispers
And misunderstandings.
When your guts alert
A trill of panic:
Proof you were wrong all along.

The position of The Hanged Man,
Gleefully upside down,
Resting on his crown
With a smile,
Ignorant or blissful?
That’s anyone’s guess.
He’s stagnant
And in free fall
Unquestioning the present.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s