fishing with elderly beatniks

this voice is
soft, and unconvincing
too many twisted tales
and not enough love
try as i might
i just can’t seem to find
the proper balance
i wish i had a map
or some solid guide stone
to point me in the right direction
instead i have
and endless addiction

confused, i convene
with complex chemicals
and curious thrills
but secretly
i crave an anarchic stability
so forget these nervous intentions
because seasoned flesh
ripples slightly out of step
and blood ghosts bloom smooth art

this insane wisdom
comes at a high price
and futility
seems to be the norm
roses aren’t always red
but my tired eyes are blue
the mouth and the heart
match to kill
and ironic songs
remind me of all my
glorious and faded dreams

perhaps the gods will
will have mercy
and release me from this
spiritual incompetence
so that beautiful chaos
and abundant passion
can guide my weary soul


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