I sit across your lunch table
Grinning perpetually
Like a therapist on prozac.
I listen intently as you tell me
Stories of your conquests
The latest string of women who
have consecrated themselves at your altar.
You thrive in this hedonist's paradise
Where you live like a hamster
Always climbing a flight of endless stairs
That goes round and round
Leading to nowhere.
Is it with pride that you share your latest bedmate?
"Fwends" as you call them
Or is it a way to assuage the guilt?
I try my best to see past your words
My eyes lead me to your wife and kids
Who spend Sundays on their knees
Lighting candles in an altar where God,
probably is too busy to hear their pleas.
I scream in silent horror
As your picture perfect image
Shatters right before my eyes.
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