SECLUSION

fighting.

As I slowly recede into the retirement of my senses and withdraw into Timons of Athens,

there is a sculpture which releases the mysteries isolated within me.

Loneliness holds me in the quarantines of solitude.

The enigma of confidence seems to be the skeleton in the closet.
Like a thief in the night, under one's breath, I sneak up on the pokerfaced drunk.

Hungry as a wolf I sink my revengeful teeth into the obnoxious Saint Anthony, and watch as the sanity becomes self-possessed...

Reviews

[angel]

Poor Saint Anthony; all he wanted was to help people recover their lost and stolen items...
May I ask why you would call such a helpful fellow obnoxious?
Your rage may be the reason for your loneliness, man...nobody likes a statue-hating saint killer.
Interesting poem, though. Strange subject matter.
Well executed, though.

[john Robinson]

Sometimes the nice become the targets. I'm a deist so not into revelation religion,and he was the perfect Saint for the meaning.