Shall I deal with the world

As it is

And cease to be a poet

I exist in a space

That is neither fact

Nor fiction

A dimension that is unquantifiable

Yet undeniable

Shall I abdicate my title

To be more definable

To walk in prose

In those more reliable codes

Like hypocrisy, democracy, monogamy

And aristocracy

Be a slave- what do you call it

Adult

To accept the perversions you’ve perfected

The blame and the fault