the harsh reality of half truths

if you want a little objectivity on the matter
find yourself a pint
find yourself a pinch of friends
hell,
even find yourself
lost in the battle between kindess and
the harsh reality
that your words are being lost on a mother fucker.

consider this,
the melting pot
has lost its warmth.
it seems the constant simmer
isn’t enough to burn to the core
the desire and meaning and lost art
of sympathizing
with the
enemy.

consider this,
the toleration we share
for the way each other yells
is likely not really a physics experiment
to see who can exhale
the most hot air.
or to see who can breathe
in the deepest
the lies and outright fear
being portrayed.

if you want a little objectivity on the matter
find yourself a lowly opportunity
to break ranks
and settle the score over tabs
over beers
and against the objections of family
and pretend your arrogance is
the kind
only a mother fucker could understand.