wasted words
words like dreams
dreams that don’t last
and the last
is almost like the first
cursed and dispersed
immersed and rehearsed
to the point of a subtle outburst

cast overboard but in for the long haul
love is just a hard wired illusion
driven by an unholy biology

trinity, affinity
trending toward
a satirical and reversed infinity
baby i’m the man in black
sitting in this persistent flashback
surrounded by the soundtrack
of tired manifestation

fuck these crossed wires
and fuck this distant communication
instead let’s raise a heavy glass
cuz it’s time for whiskey
and it’s time to die again

dangerous puppet
we is i
and i is we
and we are nomads,
decadent priests of a limited shuffle
bound to creativity by cosmic glue

bored, broken, and reckless
we distill denial
and frustrated energy
into a refuge of temporary satisfaction
and there is redemption
in these malfunctioning memories
what could have been
what should have been
almost perfect
but not quite
absent of skillful reflection
we laugh at these graveyard scripts
written in the callous verse of slavery

born as nuclear peasants
we romanticize rebellion
and selfish blues
as we feast on elastic horizons

dry keys, wet life
repetitive and randomly magnificent
set in tones of majestic insanity
we grasp the throat
and whisper wandering secrets
in the heat of passion
sometimes it’s bullshit
sometimes it’s not

labored and yearning
we regret songs unsung
so let’s dispel
these crippled encounters
and fade into the hysteria
of ironic luxury

sedated and captured
like a curios criminal machine
we are tempted and unwritten
and these threads are false and fraying
as we raise a delicate sacrifice
of saddened soul and spirit
to relaxed and dying gods

hopeless flash
one more night of empty entertainment
we’re all consumers of soft stars
that hang passive and feral
on this deranged stage
of anxious moderation

one last beautiful disruption
swift in the void
and hard of heart
tempered by cold reason
we slow the pulse
and soothe this wailing mind
trying in vain to compose
weak and honest poetry
as that heavy glass slowly empties