the sun refuses to set on this house of disorder

settled down
and drinking in
this insane light
too much time
is spent on
decomposing dreams
ripped from faustian seams

riding the ghostly terror
of break beats
as savage sheets
sometimes lonely
other times dirty,
wrapped in a rapid rhythm
beg for machine souls
and reach for
a skinny white fury

metal vice and blissful sin
grin, at what might have been
novels of crazy destiny
are written in drastic desperation
washing away these hungry smiles
as we are
captured by shiny claws
and chewed with the rusty jaws
of our autistic ancestors

waiting for restitution
we trade
candle light artists
for flashy stars
in hollow suits
and pacifist preachers
for artificial pirates
with top hats and shabby shoes

intrigue burns
as prophets and paralyzation
operating within
pointless perfection
are pre-programmed with a
picture perfect deception
how many nights can we worship
these dead traditions

unbalanced by reality
most days
we almost have the answer
but unkind, we unwind
and do things
in a different way
castaway
we don’t fit in
we just fit
loosely
into this world
of calculated disorder

moonlight spills quiet inspiration
as white cats
and black notebooks
drive me toward
snapshots of luxurious chaos

poems written but never read
rattle inside this dead head
fed and bled, we shed
rusty personalities
nestled in an uncertain time
we stay close to the line
and the universe smiles
as we accommodate
broken equations of chance

439-the-sun-refuses-to-set-on-this-house-of-disorder

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