Without A Cycle Rinse Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

So addicted they are to playing childish games.
They believe their afflictions...
Are widespread.
And others who live have the same goals and aims.
With nothing more to live for...
But to play cat and mouse,
To entrap themselves.

They can not envision this as a poisoning done inside.
Their heads have been programmed to endorse denial.
And they teach these games without a cycle rinse.
Convinced they are above a rebirth of a cleansing.
They struggle to keep themselves dense...
In times reminisced when they did foolishness.
And make attempts to keep these cycles repreated.

And in these times...
What they present from stunted minds,
Does not wash with a preset that advances.
But leave behind in a grime undefined...
And confined!
That entwines to squeeze and keep them bundled.