And still those ninety-two solitary days

that lay ahead with uncertain predictions,

aren’t as challenging as debunking assumptions

from those whose gossip is just hypocritical praise.

For I, momentarily lost in the dungeon of endlessness,

would never betray the unwritten rules of a truthful pact.

Almost drowning in the river of misguiding friendly acts,

I, ironically, relish their necessitated awkwardness.

Day eight of a lonesome journey publicly shared,

with those, who understand the art of reading,

unbiased representation of pain for the one that isn’t scared.

How hurtful, this religious mental chastity, always others pleasing.

Whistle-blowing condemnations of oddity, it seems nobody cared 

They are the unharmed, but with every breath I hear them wheezing.

*****