ANTISEPTIC.

Sitting dejected not quite whole
Like family of fools one brick short
There lies ultimate reason – somewhere
But where on horizon does it lie.

Though not yet empty, running low
A vacant gap lies where once was part
Now stilted by needle and thread so whole
The dullness of its pain reminding.

Forgone, not senseless conclusion
But rapture so far away
Lying like limp on green regulation malaise
Prying not quite sensibly to know.

The apportionment of blame
Cannot lie within the frame
If it was, was it not, not not ever
So give to the alter, the doubt just benefit.

A strange perusal of vision field
Reveals the wayward, the sick, the cool
Each an existence making no headway
Locked in the alter of catafalque.

Reach for the call, push to find its not there
Wretch in the night which leads to here
Turn out the light so dim and so rue
Stop the squinting let old iron be iron.

Feeling the symptoms passing slowly away
Acknowledging the faithless, as they betray
Its more than a shortlist red so well
Angels of mercy more mechanical than brave.

When putting the onus for help on another
The rule of the play is to rule the play
Let not the afflicted by high nor mighty
Caution is the wind that blows this way.
GRUM