Italics

If my words were put on paper

They would be written in italics

Like a letter leaning over

My mind is full of unbalance.

If desire selects one thing

Sense decides another

Leaving a teeter-totter where

Swaying from one side to another,

I fall forward.

Though I may stumble

And sway

Like a sailor fresh off the sea

And onto a quaking San Francisco street

I move.

For a few steps in the direction

Of an image quite distant,

My tongue producing rhythm

Masterful lyricism;

Slick Rick and Andre

They make me a victim

To an imaginative mind.

Lunging again into the real

I quickly leave

Due to little appeal.

Again I strike it big

With fame and fortune

A California dream

Much different than truth

Of ghettos and smog

And more plastic

Than natural flesh,

But I disregard

Because I want the rest.

Until sense pushes desire,

And aggression starts a fight;

Beaten but not defeated

Strength pushes on

Stumbling to the left

Then leaning slightly to the right.