Defection

 

Men are defecting each way,

finding allies
in grienvences and regret,

bottles and sweat
the are ex-patriots of rationality,

maintain residence on the borders

of love and loss.
They are grouping under the neon

 and the moon
chattering insurrection against misery,

forging alliances with enemies of sensation,

the pollution
the inclusion,

the acceptance of other defectors.
I defect as well,

     through bottles,

         my liquid transit,
            my ticket to oblivion,

               my equal share of pain.

 

I fletch misery like an archer aims his bow,
impales me with heartache of the past.
The pain is inescapable

so I swallow it whole,
devour with earnestness

all the chronic wanting
I know this meal will not fulfill..

           I will never be full again.
My defection has left me without a home,
my defection has served me

at this table alone.