skin and soul

vices entrap, vices make addicts, vices enslave, the prey understands, refuses not. virtues are repulsive, hard to do, it's work, sounds like boredom manifested, banal. vices is a sugar rush, a dopamine high, a secret heist, they allure, they're attractive, they're hidden desires wanting more. virtues means more gray hair, more stress hormones coursing through the body, the doctor says that is really bad, so no good news for the brave hero who endeavors the hardships, the quiet days of long suffering with head bowed. vices is dressed as virtue when the contents remain the same, the labels changed and the consumer is drunk with lust, greed while screaming virtues. virtues become mislabeled when the contents remain the same, kick the horse when it is down, everyone loves a good kick when they're feeling the blues. vices is a quick fix, a long term solution when a priceless pearl is said to erase all guilt and the one who tells the story right gets the gold. virtues mean a likely short life from all the pounding, hits on neural pathways exhausted from too much, still needing to pump more and finding no resource. weeps. and no friend comes around for everyone has been invited to the party hosted by those with more. vices and virtues did meet on the road, wrestled with one another and virtues turned to skin while vices hid deep within: a soul. all the while the onlookers clapped, cheered when the hero made his way out of the maze, with the villain's head in hands: behold the wicked monster is no more! a smile, a change in demeanor, an unsettled sigh when one hero laid down his helmet and shred off his skin for the monster that was held in his hand turned to life once more, a new master it shrieked. aye, aye the stranger grinned, welcome to this host whose body is given freely, but do remember the pact we made. and no one, saw what happened during the fight when skin and soul wrestled with each other, when one morphed into the other and murdering the soul, skin's heart did skip a beat even though it had none, only a resemblance of what a heart should look like: i won, i won, i won. and convince the masses it contrived, all it learned during the fight of what should have been - - - if soul had won. it's what idealism wanted, what the crowd yearned to hear even when each one too when their way to fight skin and soul, vices and virtues, each in their own labyrinth: to face headless monsters seeking their heads and hearts ... ... for they were both equally important, finding one, missing the other then awareness becomes enlightenment to find that heart had been taken away a long time ago, only the head remained, to survive this ordeal. come make a pact with me said vice, i'll get you through this. enough, enough said soul, and yet could not break the enchantment, the chains began to loosen, the prisoner broke free, unleashed to spread wings and fly, the prize to have more became a quest of meaning, distorted for heart had stopped, a living cadaver that bowed to none. then the final bill did come along, a bill so very long and large for the devil kept his score, it's time to pay and the man had ran out of time.