Deviance

Sushi is cold
Foreign, alien
Messy like too much devotion

Not perfect or pristine
An opportunity cased in velvet
But drawn, instead, with an artistic graffiti
On the walls of tradition

I am deviant.
Wrapped in seaweed and passivity
You cannot find me in the denim crowd.

Leave uncertainty to those
Who cannot afford to live otherwise.
Stability is not meant to be
Red, hot, wild.
Passion in a burning fire
Gone like a Roman candle into the night

Predestined slot
Traditional mold
Infinitely small
As the cold entered my mouth,
It spoke of deviance.

My aquarian heart beats
In time with an older rhythm
The stir of bottomless depths
Things lurking in the dark and ancient
Shadow and water
The damp womb of Mother Nature

From thence I came
And yet, trust has fled

Crime? You say.

Punishment. Yes.

Slice and dice me until you understand.