A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
It takes a group of them, grinning, hungry wolves to mislead a lamb who does not follow into the canyon where they play. Bones decay on hard, faded orange malaise. On their haunches, in packs, nothing better to do. A lamb like me could be their god but they're unfed. The gazes, unmistakable. Their faces painted with deceit and games for one who's been playing along far longer than their collective breath. I take in their souls, one by one in the canyon, dodge and weave while they espouse and be about the 'white' lies in pathetic ignorance. I walk among them, my soul like armor they cannot penetrate, though they believe their hollow teeth sink deep beneath my hyde, but find no flesh. Muscle and bone do not make up this man who smiles and nods, collects his winnings after a day's work amid thin dogs with nothing to devour, and I pity them until they find their true master. It's not life, or death, just a game. 3.3.22 playing basketball with a bunch of ego maniacs and manipulators who use the game as some kind of tool to elevate themselves, put themselves ahead of others who just come to enjoy the game. I could teach them something, but all they see is someone they can prey upon, as if devouring me on the court will elevate their soul in some way. But, I don't let them. I wonder how long until they tire of the game I will not give up because I have true joy. |