How Roses of Beauty Flourish Most. (When Grown in Scores of Shit.)

how roses of beauty flourish most.
(when Grown in Scores of Shit.)
________________________

I've always been
The Sort who prefers
being scolded by
The Forked Tongue
of Intellect over
The Boredom which
Comes when exposed
To useless Flattery.

(an Ego can only be
stroked so much before
it becomes dull and
senseless afterall.)

Yet here I Am
Nonetheless...waiting
for Praise from The
Nameless..

An Ever-Watching-
God-Of-Frauds
Who Began True.

(Until it Forgot Itself,
and What The Truth
Is.)

How long before
My Head Cracks and
spills it's Absurd Poison
out Upon the Faulty
Floors of Misperception?..

Before The Lamb Of
Me Roars and Become's
A Wolf who Bleats?!

(how long before Myself
and Sanity Meet?!)

Oh Love..
how I love-Thee-Hate
Thee-Want-Thee-Too...

How I Hate Me who
Loves Thee!

(and Spend Long
Nights
Awake Dreaming of
You.)

Are you Flattered?
More than ever..
(if it ever mattered.)

Still
Hoping that Devils and
Modern-Day-Saints
May someday congregate
Together.

(Will The Outcome
Be Never?)

Well...
Here I am...
(All OF Us.)..
Breaking another
Mold to Remold
My Heart..

Walking This
Dead Valley Vile
and Poisonous!!

(While passing
My Abnormalities
off As Art.)

and damn
If I don't Love
It.

How Roses of
Beauty Flourish
Most!!

(When Grown in
Scores of  Shit.)

j.stephen.h.