chapstick

I cling to the fading scent,
& get the sense of an atmosphere
similar to that of
trying determinedly to chew the last pockets of flavor from
a piece of greyed gum,
 
and, again, the world has mirrored the external to the in,
creating a perfect metaphor for itself.

Is it really time that this was spit out?
And if it is, who is at fault for this atrocity,
this robbery of the beauty
and peace
and light
and direction, which I remember now,
which cuts through the tiredness & desperation it has
become
to give me a glimmer of a reminder,
of a hope, and bewliderment...
 
like the eroding of the gum’s commercial, bright beginning,
leaving only the industrial grey
of the lesser mentioned ingredients…
 
is that really what we are built on?
or have we just been chewed to death?