I am better than that

I am better than that.

 

My mind is dismal

Sloth. The cloth that hugs at the fabric

Of my being

Squashes hope like bleeding fruit

A skein of flesh ready to go off

Corrode and seep

In danger of losing faith

 

Let me rise from this sepsis

Slough away the harmful cells

And burn just a little

Just a small gleam will do

For faith and reason

Must occupy minute spaces

Where lies and envy

 

Connive and corrupt in quiet assembly

With thieves and cowards in alleyways

That are dark and smell metallic

Like spilled blood

And yes, spare me the ooze

The leaking away and stench

Of a naked, hopeless thought

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