Pariah

Hideaways you worship like the devotion
You assign to your own existence:
Something promising about the separation
From the predictability of humanity,

& the dangers of becoming attached to something secular:
Love,,, perhaps
You will be disappointed
<& again>
It happens: imperfection is what looms
In the vestibules of this matrix:
It isn’t heaven: here:
Behind door #? Is a plastic game: that despises
Its own description: in the category: toys
So, the question, stays inexhaustible delay:
Do you want to play:

Today… ? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today?