what a waste

what a waste
disgrace embraced

touched the top
wary of the rock bottom
yet here i lie in limbo…
…slowly dying within

suffocation always reveals the coward in you
instead of giving in
you run full circle
back to the miserable beginning

contemplate release
relish in its reason

its                            space

its

     breeze

contemplate inaction
as you wade shamefully
through
defeated
fate

Hell awaits yet another of your stumbling blind journeys.

the un-rebel

no kind words
await the ill-honoured
un-rebel.

no praise, or applause
or laurels are
deserved by he.

a lament, a tirade
a lengthy convoluted complaint
are better suited for
he who plays the role
of the nonchalant saint.

all his passiveness
filled in neatly
into whatever space
pride left
when it was
scooped out
and left to simmer
in indignity.

a doormat is he
yet the stomp-trampling feet
leave tainted and dirty.

an odd duck perhaps?
befuddled about which
pious path to choose?

no,
just callous
and quiet
and with
nothing to lose.