the laughter of others untethered to reason

unreaching for purpose are snakes in space

forbidden fruits whirling in the air

that turns my every ughly attempt

to grasp it into blades that disrobe sweetness

leaving only sin-scattered shit-bittered seeds.

hell is a house filled with children's laughter

boys noisy with cars, girls reeking of reels.

can't have fun and feel guilty of it too.

(the distance lean-swallowed. the lack, the lack.

she, he, them. i'm always away, will always be.)

whatever grows groans in green, bleeds in red

and dies blackly. funny, when guilt knows

to collapse is to lean lackly.

~ ajay

23/5/2022