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With delectable scrutiny she observes each
Drop of water as it passes through the filter in her Britta
She knows there is a common heritage
That exists in blood and water and gathers
All her senses to guard the gift
As it beads and falls into 
The abyss below –
With an undefined hope she craves
Purity from this liquid
Witnessing only contaminated
Droplets  reflecting  what is
Once more she  pours  the water
Through the filter
She does not wish to die, not from
Filth hidden in what has promised purity –
Realization that life is all she 
Ever possessed any game of
Chance  with it has taken the fools lot—
“I want to live, not die,
I want to drink from the cup,” she cries out.
Warning denial is evident

Purity unattainable

Thirst unquenchable

Life unsustainable


copyrighted 2009
Like any addiction the addiction to being prefect sets chaos into motion – one of the best works I have read on this matter is Addiction to Prefection (The Still Unravished Bride) by Marion Woodman.   I have read and reread it and is one of the works I keep close for reference.