Every supper is the last supper,
eating, devouring like there’s
no tomorrow,
drinking the drinks
of violence, holding on
to rage, an ugly face
facing the stark disgrace,
passed over pulled and
pushed along like you
knew all along what is
wrong with all and everything,
like a pass over passed you
over, like blood on the wall
was not yours, like eating
could assuage your pride,
your lie, your longing, like
you just ate your last supper.
Jim Hime©2015
to rage, an ugly face
facing the stark disgrace,
passed over pulled and
pushed along like you
knew all along what is
wrong with all and everything,
like a pass over passed you
over, like blood on the wall
was not yours, like eating
could assuage your pride,
your lie, your longing, like
you just ate your last supper.
Jim Hime©2015
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