-Damnation-

Nothing genius. Or even very interesting.
I’ve got nothing. I’m nowhere and careening, wildly.
I’m inside and peering out. How can I get There?
How will I be? No fate for the dispossessed. Give up
your guns. Turn in your credentials. The gates are
locking down. Stand there, alone, gently. Hear the
good, cool rains of their ravenous mating. The feasts
& celebrations of their warm, silk writhing. And
glasses, full w/draught, clink collide spill, joyously
while women laugh, meanderingly, sexfully & children
play there, oblivious. Ah, no love for the subverted. Will
they remember me? Will I still care? You lose something
of your humanity w/the growing illumination of our
darkened estrangement. Being unwanted is a moral
asylum and freedom. At once, we detach from the
societal ideal of responsibility. We may no longer bother
w/Concern, empathy, but the waking earth remains and
hours and conceptions and needs. Even in exile-
spiritual soulful mindful sensual. Yeah, it’s no
delight. It’s a strange thing. Indeed, a scornful
bizarre alarming thing…

knowing
you are something
the World
would not, at all,

forlorn

-Damnation-

darrell1973day

Brighton, United States

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