Peculiar Pabulums

  You give me nothing And, you give me nothing.   I am no longer afraid of the truth; Audacious with my discontent.   You, content with the belief of noble lies; Desensitized trough repetition.   An automaton that bends and whirls At the push of a button, or two.   Trite, and obligatory intimacies Are status quo for this address.    

  Ethereal memories, Simple contrivances of the mind, Glide through the rooms.   Search and seek. Listen to the whole house. Quiet as an epitaph waiting to be told.   Tread softly. Each creek and moan from the bones Reverberate as spectacular thunder;   Overwhelms, The faintest wisp of their trace, And flee.   Roll through the days, years, To find the one clue that will Prompt them to substantiate here, now. It’s Sunday. It’s only me. Alone.