the demise of the wandering poet

satan sun
busted out in a
summer seance
weaving wine trails
and chasing stolen tails

the gods are
rolling thunder
for misfits
sitting in
dull disbelief
and waiting for a sign

as dreamers
consumed yet
slow moving
are plotting
tired pick up lines
lying, dying
for selective concubines

it’s just one endless night
pursued in
familiar patterns
with less than infinite

sleepwalking through
hesitant anticipation
with an infamous intent’s
we mixed metal musings
with just one
uncut and rough

what unnamed and untamed beast
lies beneath the surface
waiting to break free?

we waltz through the day
with wet madnesses
wrapped in undisclosed packages
signed with the honesty
of humanity’s forceful identity

tired, we wait for
golden skies
filled with rain

grant us one moment of
solid reparation
for this ideological separation

fractional stories are mounting
with half remember dreams
followed in hollow journals
as adulthood is
written in
incomplete sentences

slow to type
slow to think
what if we’re really all
just brain dead
stuttering and stumbling
through one big illusion

how did the monsters of old do it
i think
it’s time to
take a break
and escape
from this altered personality




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