it seems so much a formality
the simple giving of thanks
heads bow with fear
like pirates
walking planks
laughter just as hollow as has ever been known
curses are mumbled --------> the innocents are stoned
i’m fat with ghosts and three days grown
full of friends but all alone
tired of hypocrisy
consummately vain
sure
soft
subtle
american
but stained
traveling in season
the wrong one again
simple stupid questions
from simple stupid men
i’m sick with sleep -------->too much to eat
i hear a voice i wish it was sweet
in shallow conversation -----------> i’m not looking for the truth
i hardly ever even think about you
i take the trip in smaller steps
it’s no surprise
i am not there yet
for the moment it seems
and from either extreme
talking tall and
*art by Hillary Waters Fayle
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