I take my place at the head of the line
We walk slowly
In unison
down stone cathedral hallways

On the way,
practicing self-abasement
degradation
Bartering limbs, organs
and souls

sellling ourselves willingly
hoping to purchase
a bandage created
to heal self-inflicted wounds.

We compete for the cure
viciously
skull-crushing, heart-stomping, throat-slashing
raw hunger overriding compassion

This cure
defies description
but its qualities remain constant
An innocent predator
shadowing every face
and body

We seek it through others
Men who were met for minutes at best
Sometimes women, children.
But never in ourselves.

Existing in narrow channels the world over
and at the same time
only in the mind

in the tiniest of lobes
neuroses
atoms
to one labeled "Validation".

And funny
to think
it won't last.