Triple D

not DQ dessert not sweet nor fruity

not Purdy’s dark orange liqueur nor Japanese brandy early

neither here or either there

still empty soundless white grey space

for acedia’s depression becomes obsession

without a face we lose our place

on our knees in the deepest darkest dungeon

enter into the labyrinth of despair

circling wildly hopelessly in prayer

crying and speaking that we might be heard

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