when gratification left the witness stand,
the stream turned into a swim,
into a flood.
the rain turned into a storm,
into unavoidable wetness.
the conversation had words,
that stormed into topics,
that wore clothes
and dressed me up as a traitor.
the day had its presence,
which lost its mood,
became an endless list
of annoying babbling sheep.
and I, as the shepherd,
somehow become the pastureland.
this is when receivership lost its handle,
became a tool
of effort and concern,
built stuff I didn't want,
had no clue for usage,
gave me a garage sale of a mindset.
somehow forgot
the what, the why and the how,
of gratification's efforts,
of being in one's life.
maybe gratification is
only an audience stature.
and I ventured out
onto the playing field . . .
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