washing my hands clean

tireless efforts of avoidance

my ego thinning

refusal to use the name

given to me as my first gift

from my father

disgust and fear and loss

fragile and worn

battered by the ocean

of social commentary`

created by goblins

human in appearance

hiding in corners

my eyes forced downward

to the floor

becoming intimate with infamy

that is not mine to bear, to feel, to know

this shame, mistrust, arrogance

belongs to creatures of moonless nights

loss of sanity and sanctity

at the hands of tools and cronies

dolos and apate with claws piercing

despite knowledge

despite honor

despite love

given freely

dipping the cup into the river

splashing through the core of me

the fable was rewritten

in a language foreign and vague

told by false prophets

over ice cold bud light and gin

my retreat solid cold steel

my defeat commemorated in stone

while the victors dance

i will learn

to love the wasteland


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