leading up to hope's
reverberating
thud
the spitshined steps
frequented
by marauding
sprites
hell bent
on tearing down
soul-less barriers,
them in themselves
whipped and shredded
beyond a mother's
reprieve
and this journey
is for what?
why do we aspire
to that which is
attainable by
the lowest minion
here on god's planned
escape?
wouldn't it be prudent
to race to the
nearest hierophant,
tell our tales
of woe and disgust
again and begun
till reddened ears
fall silent
and turned heads
spurn?
and who here gives
a damn
about a fellow
traveler's
dumbfoundment?
would you run
to discord
and lolling,
opiated
baboons
intent on
self constructive
manias?
no....
every echoed
rub
is a thorn
in the side
of quarked
indifference
why deny
the damage done
when twining
intercepts
release?
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