my bloody entrails
with you
trying to recover.
This
all of the muck
is the real me.
according to you.
I begin to believe.
as do you.
We continue to sit
amidst our waste
glorifying the grime
that chokes and conceals
the true foundations
beneath.
I look about me
in disgust,
realizing that I
we
are trapped
in the muck
the entrails
the shit
the bile
I vomit as you pick through
and thank me.I cannot remain
any longer.
I rise to my feet
and walk away.
I must purge myself
of the shit.
I only hope
you too can pull yourself
out of the muck.
Only when removed
individually
from the waste
will we see
the foundation
surface again.
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