This swirling mess
of bedazzled matter
chokes on
its own
infinite cask –
rebelling and rappelling
from the salinated
fetishes digging
cancerous holes beneath
a veneer
of complacence.

Inward –
staunched and blanched-
I see arms and hands,
instruments of connection
that reach out and recoil
under the pain of rejection…

under the guise
of integrity.

These pieces fall,

by the doubt
that grips and buries
us under the myth
of hope.

© Patience and Christopher Rupley 2016

(This is a collaborative free verse poem written by myself, and the talented Patience. Be sure to check out the rest of her work).


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