blowing smoke
out of a tired monkey’s ass
the side-show is boring
and the freaks
have lost their touch
this virtual life
is no life
to admire
because
pictures lie
and illusions die
as fools sit and wait
for the next manufactured
round of amusement

it’s late
in this moon-day afternoon
and i haven’t accomplished much
three drinks in
and lightly decomposed
i’ve decided to compose
a line or two
in preparation
for the pointless week ahead
it’s hard work
being a silent genius
but it’s a sacrifice
i’m willing to make
because words are just whispers
conjured from delicious shadows
set to enthrall the distracted masses
and it’s sad how we become
desensitized
wandering from one stranger to the next
conveniently wasting time
lingering in a dependent state
of absent desire
that withers
and dies slowly
on this corrupted vine

the summer is sliding bye
supine and slightly sedated
excited yet almost conquered
salivating a salacious serenity
and sending sleepy signals
to drowning souls in heat
my cats know better
empty and contemplating the cool reality
of this defeated system
i utter complicated and useless invocations
meant to kill this false narrative
and sit softly
slightly out of focus
content in this abstract myth
waiting for the next
great conquest arrive