Blur

Life is a blur, or is it my glasses

I can see the smoke but not the fire

Maybe there's no fire at all

Could be a thing of the past that is only now dousing my desire

The desire to wipe the mist off

The desire to peek through the window for a hint of light

But I'm afraid I'll end up seeing a fight

A fight as necessary as the glee of the audience

Or worse yet a knife or a gun

The kind of thing I could have sworn I was done with.

So I let the smudge obscure my vision

For the blur lugs my focus

To a spot veiled inside me

Where then there's two me

Even though it's hocus pocus

At least there's nobody to mock us

Shock us

Stalk us

Block us

Cause a ruckus.