That sense of utter loneliness.
Unspoken in each crowd's conspiracy.
Where laughter, just a bit too loud,
belies its tone of insincerity.
It's killing you. You cannot stop.
Another day. Another crop
of feelings that are never harvested.
Your horn of plenty cries in emptiness.
Bountiful, the great unease
of temporary sanity
that leads you deep inside the misery.
Where angels turn to devils.
Still, your spirit leads you on.
Another addiction to add to the swarm
of all that invisible harm.
Muscles aching. Joints on fire.
Your great rebellion mired in the muck.
Flying free. Still feeling like you're stuck
within an ironclad decreed immunity.
Eve as love's beauty dies in fortified utilities.
Poisoning the atmosphere of those who need to breathe.
Another round of experts that prescribe tranquillity.
Hiding in the closet on your knees.
Unable to pray to the god they unmade.
Denouncing your relations to their gross humanity.
Suffering from all the vested greed.
Robbed by yet another set of thieves,
pretending that they really are your friend.
You cannot see through all the endless grief.
The loss was small. It grew immense
within the sound, the sight, the sense.
Unnurtured still, that very basic need
for love so unconditional, it's free...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2006 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .