Hubris

There is a wall around me.

A shell, a wonderful warm blanket.

A comforter, a quilt.

A shield, a protector.

The 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune',

they hurt me not, they weaken me not.



I do venture out from time to time.

Get tossed and turned. Safe in the knowledge,

My wall is waiting, to be gathered around.

To close me up again, to let me lick my wounds.



To let me gather around me, my fragments.
Stick them together again and make them me.

It waits patiently, to let me live my follies.

And everytime I fall, my pride, dear pride,
props me up again.

Avarice

Hear, the burning of the primal need.
Surrounded by the cacophony, the clamouring...
of want arising.
A thousand black screeching crows, descend,
make living flesh shrivel,
rip out the deepest, slumbering desires,
bleed the finer passions dry,
feast on the glorious unbound, smorgasbord.
Dries, wilts, turns into dust,
back to the mutilated caricature of man.
We are after all, the playthings of desire,
operated by that magical open sesame- 'I Want'