Provisions

I should see by now,
But desperation rules,
All prizes for normal people,
Nothing for the broken.

I’ll sell it all right now again,
For a spoonful of that water,
Seeing no suns, rising denied,
I cannot see a reason to stay.

Tired of all the lies and misery,
Try hard, fall harder, defect alone,
A leper in man-sized funeral attire,
Buried under the weight of ‘nothing.’

Keep calling out, echoes only,
Fuck it but cannot be forced out,
I still will have to be bled, drought,
Ask me where I am, provide a hell.
Thomas Spychalski 

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