Blood filled baths for purification

slicing, burning, shooting, and drowning

you, me, and all inbetween.

I question why we bother to breathe?

Images are played on my box

depicting the trifling cycle

licking back my stomach acid.

I watch many pat their dry tears

I fully comprehend this is inevitable

but does that mean that we can not

can not perceive it as regrettable.

I know, I know it wasn't your fault or mine

Recollect that we did plaster our lips

disowned our thoughts

turned forever our hips

and added rests to slow rhythms

Father forgive me, for I have grown numb