A Matt Finished Portrait

you are seated
alone
at a splintered table prepared
with moldy bread
and bad wine
your cup
runneth over
with bitterness
the bile
of your intent
acid, eating
through the
faux marble sheen
of your gentleness
your lightning rod
and tin foil hat
won’t comfort you
as you hang
above the mantle
of madness
all the days
of your life

© Poetry or the Inkwell 2019

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30 thoughts on “A Matt Finished Portrait

  1. Do I detect some kind of a veneer here? Acting. Putting on a false face? Nothing genuine. I love the images of moody bread and bad wine. They say so much. Good poem Inky.

    Liked by 2 people

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