"Propriety"

"Propriety"

Possession is nine tenths
yet your hands look disgusting.
Decrepit and dirty,
flirting with butter until
slick enough to impose will
and appear to stand still.
Slipped past door sils
without breaking the locks.
The grey fox is no blood hound
and since that dog won't hunt,
you can no longer front.
About face, soldier.

You are much older than the method.
New tricks and predictable manuevers.
Rumored to leave patterns.
Crossed familiar terrains flatter
than the evidence of your return.
Bridges burned in your wake.
Shook off the ashes, slight gashes
barely kept under disguise...
...your eyes betray your intent.
You believe you were sent
to fulfill a purpose seldom shown
for that which has never grown.

Attempt to cultivate your craft
among the magistrates that laugh
at your lack of style or flare
and you are bound to wonder where
you left your dignity after all.
After wire tapped phone calls
and that first search warrant,
you've become a little more abhorrent.
 The cloth will surely smudge
but the torrent will not rinse away.
Before you even think or budge, 
you should plan your getaway.

Since you were stealing anyway,
why not just ask for what is yours?
Instead, your pride gets in the way.
You find yourself on all four.
Behind the couch, the light is out
and all the action is dead.
Like a needle awaiting thread,
you take your time as you tread.
Under my bed you find the box.
You pick the lock. Forget keys.
Upon your lap lies your own trap.
You're bound and strapped at the knees.
I may want to negotiate
if you play nice and say "Please."
Not by my hands. Please understand:
I'm not the taunt nor the tease.
You've paved the way for your dismay.
An easy story to tell.
You've forged a path in disarray.
Who couldn't follow the trail?
Who wouldn't pick up the smell?
Funk of the frail high and mighty
who might be on the fence
like locks that dangle unclenched.
Made nothing common of sense
from a long line of demanding
substantial marks upon their names
who boast of their understanding.
What you lack you say you've claimed.
This your true measure of fame.
Infamous your times of quarrel
where you display insipid morals.

I will not rue this tomorrow;
so take back what I won't borrow:
Make way for the wasted time.
Every trinket. Every dime
spent in vain in chase of me.
All this useless vagrancy.
Make room for complacency.
Chances you had to run free
were lent to your latency.
Facing me in pain, you'll see
how far your efforts have been wrought.
Thought does nothing to improve
one who will not make a move.
It would behoove you to pack heavy.
Arch your shoulders.
Nice and steady.

Possession is nine tenths.
Reclaim everything you've sent
amid your deceitful purpose.
No receipt for your purchase.
Your life's service a lie
and you will be tried.
Crying like you've never shown it.
No denying that you own it.
Blown it further than expansion.
Locked you up within your mansion.
Thin the walls that echo shame.
Walls created in your name.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz