The tears you draw are effortless.
No fantasy has survived in your world.
Full of sharp edges, you close your eyes to the world.
Blunted by time and exposure, they no longer harm you.
So, detached, you watch the flow, into the cup.
Your cleansing ritual rids you of guilt, pain, and pleasure.
Yes, even pleasure.
You smile with satisfaction.
Sunday, May 1, 1983
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