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.