I close my eyes and wait.
The fait accompli of shame, neglect and fear washes over me.
Like a practiced ritual of acceptance.
The pain numbs. The numbing is welcome. Like plumbing for a leaky spirit.
Devoid of conscience and character.
Now, devoid of hope.
This hope, perhaps overdone in the context of gluttinous despair.
Feed the beast, eat the loved ones to bare bones.
Shriveled lives, shrinking from the light.
Dig deep. Not deep enough yet for a grave.
Dig deep for a man. Find belief. Find nothing?
It’s Christmas time there’s no need to be afraid…
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