Between the vision and the reality
Where serendipity crouches
In the shadows,
Blowing blessings as though kisses
Through the prison bars encircling
The earthly inhabitants of Mondays,
A cleavage in the human condition widens with accelerating years.
And fevers run high as separation of worlds begins,
Inducing delusions sweet enough to guide stumbling
Minds around the cynic’s trap.
Hope, hope, sweet saccharine hope:
Take one tablet by mouth once daily
To keep away the tears that Tuesdays bring,
To knock you to the floor, to force you to your knees
In a near-orgasmic bliss,
Stretching dreams to the brink so that this waking life
Might be a mere intermission in the nighttime vision
Our existence is prescribed to be.
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