your wickedness
sickedness -
i was prisoner
to your lies
and sometimes
you hold me hostage
now watch this
don't stop this

i made contact and...
whiplash -
you made me look back
retract

this constant tenacity
of hypocrisy
seldom possessing the
self control that restricts the impulses
to chase the clock
the time

that makes the blood run stale in
my veins
my legs
can't move or be soothed

i'm falling
slipping
stuttering to the end

the journey,
a coincidence

i've seen:
the truth
triumph
prevailance
of sin-
ister intentions
conventions
and pleasures of instance

or is this
real
surreal
profane
transmitted to the sleeping
while dreaming
or feeding
the needy
and greedy
uncertain
unsure
unseeing
or just keeping
us sane




 
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