dormant

beat down by a

world of rejection

with wrinkles staring

back from that

cruel mirrored reflection

realizing the real world

that does not

rhyme like it might

in the most perty of

songs that we sing to

ourselves in times of

perfectly horrific tragedy

or jokes we tell those

round us to try & grasp

some iota of

comfort in a

collapsing atmosphere &

every breath is a struggle

& every attempt at moving

away from the past seems

to be a fleeting jump in the

direction of chaos

where personal responsibility

can seem more daunting

as each passing moment

rears its ugly head &

every pointing finger

is just another dying

hollow body, here lies

the titillating torment,

here lies the hilarity

that what one blames as

the sole reason for

such seemingly singular

demise, that

possibility of sex laying

all around at the feet of

the 21^st century adult,

that wanton human

desire that creates the

catalyst that topples the

first crucial domino in

a life of self-blame &

echoing walls to scream to

when the inevitable empty

room surrounds,

leaving one alone,

leaving one sick,

leaving one self-destructive &

dormant,

waiting for the world to give one

more reason,

waiting

waiting

waiting.