A stomach grows empty from mind’s rumination,
And maybe a fault conjures from one’s own making
Interpreted as fiction: but decency claims, “Unlikely.”
I smile at existence’s indefinite conclusion of
Whether this is in fact happening or just a series
Of ideas with bodies put into imaginative places.
Should be no surprise to re-realize peace of mind
Upholds prevalence in the ease and quiet of a
Silent death unencumbered by indecision’s folly.
And the blind effuse of denial’s guilt shields the
Truth with great convenience as repressed trauma
Protects youth’s stolen and corrupted innocence.
The otherside haunts (like a ghost who sells memories)
And grass remains an amenity reserved for those
Beyond self-satisfaction’s misled dissolute actions.