Tuesday, December 28, 2021



We breed discontent with dreams of forfeiture
I didn’t know how to react; my bravery tattered and torn
No excuses cover the multitude of miles between us

You are a hologram I cannot process
A covenant defying logic by speaking in a language of hop bitters
Shrouded in secrecy our love making perverse as it satirizes our broken hearts

Your betrayal sickens me as I turn to the cold spaces inside my mind of deva vu and perverse rot
The storm underwhelming so I turn off the sound and watch the pictures invade our plastic wrapped solitude
Sometimes I don’t believe in rainbows then I look into the sun and the raindrops remind me I am a warrior

Loyal friends have never been a dime a dozen, no matter what we may fool ourselves into believing
Fair-weather only gets you as far as the next bout of loneliness plaguing you like a secret spilled so carelessly in the middle of another blood splattered, Sinatra night
Some believe I’m gifted while the truth is so much more ridiculous; covered in pangs of glitter and guilt

We breed disharmony when closing ourselves off to autumnal shifts
The seasons like a burial garment shelter us from the invulnerable winds of tyrannical self-loathing
No excuses will make me love you any longer as I fight from returning and escape this hell.

Charles Cicirella

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