As litanies are littered
As are praises turned to prying
As reasons are redacted
As are lovers set to lying

As promises are pitted
As are alibis asserted
As dreams are devastated
As are answers so averted

As mysteries are murdered
As are fictions fabricated
As wondering is wounded
As are causes calculated

As victory is vanquished
As are arguments acerbic
As life induces limits
To the ache we’re all allergic


About A. P. Christopher

I'm a cynic, a nihilist, and a pessimist. I'm a hermit filling the interior walls of my empty cavern with the words and pictures of a mind adrift in disparity. I also like lifting weights.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Allergic

  1. Nice writing, my friend! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Beautiful use of words.

    Liked by 1 person

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