Never a day, a moment, a glimpse
of love.

Only fractions of people,
splitting their Jeckyls and Hydes,
feigning interest to
laugh at my demise….

My lonely spiral – a staricase spin,
down and down and down.
How dare I, they say, to speak,
when I should but honor
their piss stained lives,
soaking in the grisly fat
of their murdered meat.
Stenching, stenching, stenching.
I smell them,
therefore they stink.
They stink,
therefore they are.

Nothing, nothing, nothing,
but Jeckyls and Hydes
spackling and cackling themselves.
Trapped in their own grandiose minds,
a width a thousand miles.
But to be buried in a hole
less the size of Whoville smiles.

Down, down, down the hole,
There’s always room for jello.
Goodbye to you and you….

© 2014 John Allen Richter


About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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