A blister, given rise
Plump with anticipation
And between events.
A beginning and an end
That really is not,
But explanation reeks.
We copy to paper
With no thought given
But a man’s DNA,
That's another splinter
Inflamed in redness,
Taut, and mimicking
An ear on a cold day.
Go ahead, Cry foul.
Cry wolf.
Cry at the drop
Of a Stetson.
Cry in vain.
Cry out
With no remorse.
Tears beat a path to your door
And you let them in. Why?
A sorry example of sociology
At best. Another way
To pound the dent out
Of love wrecked
On the corner of indifference.
A time when I called
And the voice of reply was mine,
The explanation reeks too
And we won't talk about it.
Just like the DNA
We fear the complexity
Reaches beyond linear travel
Or comfort.
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