Life is an Orgy & Window Pie

We float like most,
We wear it well,
That fine gloom,
Every single morning,
It catches the curtain lights,
It is expedient,
For there are not many things to laugh at now.

There are those, in spite of life,
Who smile for reasons unknown,
Laugh though needless,
Giggle on contact,
Ask of your sciatica,
Or your dog’s hernia,
Oh dear, you poor thing,
Are you gon’ die soon?
They say.

They gesture wildly,
Shake hands firmly,
Move on to another, repeat.

Nothing is truly honest or fake,
You can never quite finger the source of their joy,
For these ones,
Life is an orgy and a window pie.

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