LIVING IN PATTERNS

Living in Peccadilloes

Here you exist

 in small peccadillo

disbursed through eyes

blind to scene

and reason.

Your servants are paynims

and you remain slaves forever,

sit snugly in musings and furies

between failure and defeat.

Here you make straight patterns

carve out fading memories

of living in distress 

when heart beatings

call for undue stress.

Living in Distrust

You suspect that you live,

it is living nay existing

in straight patterns

without a soul,

waiting for an epitasis.

You realize a crude method

without thought,

a baseless prurience

without an object,

a protracted screaming

without a voice,

living continues to grunt

as an individual is crushed

for social security

and a soul is stifled.

Here you know

a man’s innocence is scarified

for chemical convenience,

and you enjoy

without a smile.

Physiology is darkly trained

to suit lusty advances,

to lavish scenes with incidents,

and lengthened out reasons

for truths de-sanctified

without an escape.