Twisted

Crying, sweeping self from shores long served.
Dead, again so dry, so off, so…nothing itself.
Stuffed sameness swiped forth factoid run-arounds.
Regurgitating reality run through the ringer.

Rejection again. Feeling down to the bone, boneless.
Slick words go down like chunks of rock and ash.
Intentions disbelieved and promises uncounted on
Still bite just as strongly or all the worse the same.

Laughing in ironic mockery strikes like a knife to the spirit,
Hopes torn, then chopped, then diced, then liquefied to boot.
Trust betrayed at every turn, never knowing what face will
Appear at the next turn of the screw, cutting right through.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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