a quiet symphony of futility

coming down
the high
of false ego
gracefully overextended
eventually unattended
silence always claws
at the corners of
a sullen mind

scraping glories
from the floor of absent memory
the clock ticks
louder and slower
in these self imposed moments
of secular safety

with no quarter
we are
robbed of everything
we think we have
and there’s always
a false path to pursue

baseless and faceless
put to bed
once again
what dreams
draw this devil to the surface?

three days now
no coffee
no liquor
no poetry
and no women
too tired to sleep
and too lonely to dream
what a load of horse shit!

i wish people would just
say what they mean
and do what they say
cuz despite karma’s oppression
i ain’t got no time to play
or fiddle with this fleeting obsession

the great game
is a big nothing
and i am
fading fast
depression is real
she’s a passive aggressive bitch

i’d like to give up
but that just
ain’t my style
fuck it!
i’ll just sit
and stare at this blank screen
but for me
not being able to write
is the worse kind of torture

i don’t know how it ends
maybe it doesn’t
maybe we just
to the futility we cultivate

but hey, at least i still have my kitties



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