seasons, with reasons that lead to treasons

play now and pay later
an anthem of the american way
every action taken, every word spoken
no matter how small
has been unstructured and unfinished
and these words still wait
to be committed

is it bad posture
or faulty features
are these fingers clumsy
or is the mind just dull today
maybe it’s morning
i’m almost done
and though it’s never fun
we are
always marching
half undone
toward the unending pursuit
of tired dreams
and half truths
screams and schemes
from persuasive youths
lurking in a medieval balcony
and hanging like low fruit

1,2,3 with no
rhyme or reason
they speak to me
in this season
almost and always
of the impending treason

when comes eternity?

i see now that it’s all a fraud
when we were younger
and not quite so flawed
alternate universes seemed more
real and unnecessary

i am high but never alone
so gimme a page that’s blank
dusty and luminous, set to roam
let’s be frank
i’ve always smoked and drank
and sometimes i feel like
this is all an un-ending prank

of all the bad poems in the world
i think i like mine the best
birthed and created from
mind
and spare time
illegitimate children
ruptured and left to be viewed at a later date

so tell me when
is that magic moment again?

the seagulls are closing in
searching for that last big
score
before
the winter blues
closes the door

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