Been.

Been feeling rather

like I’ve been,

tossed out with the trash again,

been hearing laughter

inside my brain,

for getting played like a slot machine,

been taking refuge

in a jackal’s den,

naked, with a so-called gentleman,

been driven into

the wall again,

pedal to metal to concrete median,

been feeling nothing

but obscurity,

a vague and insecure uncertainty,

been here wondering

ponderously,

imprisoned by my own duplicity,

been tapping on the keys

til my fingers bleed,

to dispel the hurt I’ll feel inevitably,

been like, yeah – maybe,

I’ve been shafted again,

 sour, an out-dated milk carton,

been eating candy,

in vain, to try and sweeten,

the taste of my faith going quickly rotten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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