Bad Faith

I am. I write. The words are only words
This existential poetry is me
While some exist in existential herds
I think, therefore I think that I am free

I choose to write these clever little songs
My being-in-itself, the Words of God
The Words of Sartre’s God, my verse prolongs
Sonnettic form in place of some ballade

A poet of bad faith and yet I’m more
An Ironman, a TBI, so what?
I used to stand and shuffle to the door
But now I think my static line is cut

The words are only words; I’m more than that
Dichotomous, a mountain on a flat.

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