For Better or For Worse

desperate dreams spread their gossamer threads across my mind, penetrating and perpetuating visions of grandeur. disgusted, or perhaps disappointed, I cast them far, flung open handed and wide. can’t win for losing, a voice whispers, but I snap my fingers and laugh sarcastically. or is it sardonically. either way, these dreams stole the tears from my eyes, the voice from my lips, ink from my pen, soul-sucking, and underwhelming in its methodical deviance. there was a time when I listened. there was a time I believed every word uttered under cover of night and in dark alleys. now I know better. now I’ve given everything and betrayal rose up and stuck its tongue down my throat. gossamer threads of memory and longing. silky threads to entice and woo. well, no longer. one day I dropped the special glasses and smashed them under my heel and lo and behold, my unholy betrayer held the ends and cast them like a net. I asked once, would you ever play me like you’ve played others? no? ha. you forget, I ditched the glasses of lovestruck blindness and traded them in for crystal views. you’re playing me right now, you diabolical motherfucker, and I’m letting you.

tara caribou | ©2022

16 Comments on “For Better or For Worse

  1. can someone who wears those glasses ever really destroy them? without destroying who they intrinsically are? are they really just destined to continue what actually feels like denial because trust is given too easily and realisation is only in hindsight?

    … asking for a friend …

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m really not sure. Perhaps the need to “rebel” is enough. The imagining or picturing of the defiance, if you will.

      Or perhaps to break free, we destroy ourselves to ultimately free ourselves. A starting over.


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