radioactive lies
phased in
only to
drop out

on nights like this
the walls watch
with quiet
disinterest
as we reach for
knives
sharp like
paleolithic poems
while fall flowers
scream for mercy

soft discharge
waking and
walking from
one moment to the next
a winter waitresses
struts in feigned majesty
commanding toy soldiers
towards a familiar maelstrom
and
the poet is a false prince
with pride,
unrepentant he strides
fighting and fucking
to conquer the other side
of me

waiting for angels
and departed dandelions
that ride a soft october wind
we dream of
the sweet death of attrition
as one silken beast
is consumed by another

saintly bones crossed
with cryptic cat eyes
reality is lost
and i’m
gripped, ripped
tripped, and stripped
by metaphysical metaphors

momentary relapse
as toadstools reign
in the garden
of forgotten sorrows

i sit
with the great white owl
summoning
the native warrior spirit
and open
paper doors
with psychoactive rations

remember the snake
fire sign
divine
broken
bloodline

question and resist
stagnant rules
as maculiferous minstrels
weave work-day woes
in the kingdom of blues

if it wasn’t for
tomorrow
the unwritten words of
today
would certainly spell
oblivion