By John Maurer

One must be comfortable in their skin

Before they peel it with scalpel

Before they lay it in front of the fire

Before they can stop calling it a mask

But this is blush and mascara on a ghost

And I am a raft on a river you can’t step in twice

Since those who know everything have told me 

There is nothing to know

That everything cancels each other out

That knowledge is a drunken game of tennis

Intelligence is the white woven net

This is what we stumble over

Yes, because we are drunk

Also, because we never stop playing

And a game that never ends

Is a game that can never be won

John Maurer is a 26-year-old writer from Pittsburgh that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between, but his work always strives to portray that what is true is beautiful. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, and more than fifty others. @JohnPMaurer (johnpmaurer.com)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s