The most insidious thing I’ve faced is living in the presence of the people I have hurt; is that then death to the people who have been hurt?
Witness the templates I’ve presented to you’re viewing pleasure.
Stable, ambitious, legendary…
Great husband, better father, stellar man. Pleasantries.
When the refined sugar had dissolved the plain clothed resolves
The selfishness bubbles over,
The inconsiderate actions of a self-centered soldier.
Laying in trench, entrenched in the bodies I’ve bagged as baggage.
The doors all revolve around me like dollars do around whores.
Bitter as biting into big ass radishes.
Reality is exactly what the challenge is.
So I lay templates out like sanctified hands,
Wasted years and overly procrastinated plans,
Every year is an unfortunate toast, a reminder that the last year was abandoned, never mind the ambition, never mind my intent or my Perception’s position.
The truth is even a failure, a war inside to face the facts like lack of devotion to one’s own pledged religion.
I have officially ran out of templates