Leaving Room

I don’t need goodbyes.
They stay crisp, preserved,
Since some folks can’t handle them,
And some don’t deserve ’em.
Separations lined up like shots,
Fast and silent, down the hatch,
A lightning round
Awaiting stealthy dispatch
And the silence killed
The little bit left alive
That tiny new thing
That might have survived
If selfish sins
Weren’t treated as holy relics:
Velvet ropes protecting idols
Eternally derelict
Self-consumed and consuming
And those they claim to seek
Cannot fill their hungry guts
Pouring the blood of the meek
In deceitful rage
On the idol’s throne
A scene so revolting
They must be left alone
With the gods they chose
To repent someday, or die-
So I pick up my pack, slip out the back,
And whisper no goodbyes.