exile, anticipation, and blasphemy

scars and a hidden chance
these conversations reveal
absurd cycles
and our hopeful roses
refuse to bloom
as hard men
settle for woodpecker nights
dreams are forbidden
and cast into
skinny shadows
as fate surrenders
to another symphony
of awkward consequence

it’s a dangerous ballet
filled with dull knives
incomplete sentences
and nervous impulses
littered with stray excuses
the gods are absent and random
in their delicate traditions
and i refuse to admit
that summer is over
as my labored machine breaths
submit to another evening
of furious and cartoonish

the garden is almost empty
but i’ll always remember the rain
and if i listen closely
i can still hear the truth
of focused voodoo rhythms
luxurious and wandering
under a watchful moon
as we stumble through glorious narrations
pale and screaming
searching for a reflection
of villainy or redemption
conceiving illicit adventures
that are negotiated
in this dehumanized
and nefarious night



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