Dear Socrates (a poem),

There is pain in my heart and confusion in my mind. 

And I am trying to find clarity, I seek it. 

I want it deeply. 

But all that I find is when I close my eyes, and put on a 80’s love song really loud, and dance to it like a retard, I find that my heart reaches out and joins other hearts, and at those moments I feel something good happen, something real. 

I try to be ethical because I confuse it with being good. I am ethical, because it’s an easy thing to be. And I sit on my ethics and I look down and around at the people and I feel like I don’t want to step down because what’s around me is stinky sticky and gross, unreliable and sad.

I want to be good because I believe that it will give me an immunity, it will protect me, and I will be able to walk through a land of crap and rotting untouched, and unharmed.

I doubt that my senses can discriminate between what is real and what is not, and this leaves me sometimes without a guide in this labyrinth. Though I don’t doubt that there is a real and an unreal. 

I am happy.