Betrayal, Trust and Rubber Gloves.

I’m “on my way”…
or, so they say…
to wholeness,
and to healing,
a widely prophesied,
place made of:
my “better days”…
while, somehow…
I’m still circling…
the same ol’ slimy drain…
I must’ve taken,
a few wrong turns,
while on my way,
to this elusive terrain…
just as a high-flying kite,
gets wind-battered,
gets tattered, and…
inevitably loses the fight…
my wings…
have gone numb…
these things,
suddenly seem:
horrifyingly dumb…
Life is just…
a matter of,
betrayal and trust…
and rubber gloves…
no thoughts of,
the Gods above,
no time for that…
no time for love…
no love,
left to give,
anyway…
the love in me,
has unfortunately:
wrapped and tied,
it’s been…
entombed,
in a mausoleum…
like a packaged ham…
thrown atop a pile,
of a million replications…
my love has been,
expunged…
cracked and dry…
like each one of…
my hollow eyes…
trudge the muck,
trudge the mud,
and eventually, they promise me:
I will come to rise…
away from the struggle,
away from the pain…
known as my Life.

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