Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Not to be Trusted (Day 252)

The fog of fellowship blurs every
hairline crack and fissure webbing 
the heart’s candy shell—proving, 
yet again, that feelings are amoebic 
in nature, and not to be trusted. 
Like liquor, they peel your throat 
and leave behind a burning uprising 
of shame. Even you, accountable to 
no one, will answer for your aimless 
laxity sooner or later, leaving us 
awash in your purple velour humility.
But we will not be brainwashed by 
the wine you pour, that ancestor of 
greatness whispers truths in our ears, 
even in public, we are the good guys
And we always win.



(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Bhakti2