Condition

We shoulder pressure: our backs heavy; and so much the
Weight—and pineapple dreams. We shelter misery; and
Feign joy; but often love—cures the gloom; and often
Love—spreads the gloom. I realize pain; and so much to

Perish grey; and she smiles shame; and he cries death; and
Earth—so deep. Our lovely home: once a sanctuary. We
Struck a pose, and made love: heaven so near; and
Present tears: a safe of hate; and lock and key—buried

Deep. I fathom death, a dying eye; and sullen waves, a
Cave of angst; and daily walks, a swollen heart: a sour
Thought: a fervent prayer; but sky to truth—a need to love:
A need to feel—a loving shove; and pressure soft, a scotch
And ice; and pleasure felt, a monthly cost; and falling
Leafs, strike a nerve: a feeling shy: a loss of verve.