Harlot Bug’s haiku addresses the people we become to become the people we want to become.
Editor’s Note: There’s a rhythm in this poem’s staccato lines that make it feel so certain about itself, so sure of what the reader may take from it. We do everything it says, all of us. Sometimes it’s for the best. Sometimes not. This piece left me asking: When do I? And quickly I realized it was more realistic to ask: When don’t I?
We paint our faces.We cut out masks from live bone.And scare lies away.
Well lookit that, I’m a contributor to the Good Men Project project, rather than a supporter of it. What kind of Haiku-esq cliche fits this best…’You Can Never Go Home again?’