insatiable extremes

conquer the darkness
and scribble in the light
i have a triumphant
yet silent voice
a voice that seeks
an autumn marriage
to pirate metaphors
of timeless erosion
a voice that slowly scratches the surface
of a delicate and distant passion
to manifest and reclaim
tranquility and lost virtue

and in the distance
a holy man
promises to read
softs signs
along scattered lines
of sacred skin
dispelling the strangest dance
of disposable entertainment
as restless and forgotten gods
ruminate, and seek to terminate
all our rotating false realities
in favor of
a final revelation
of solid gluttony

burn in the catholic millennia
restless screenplay
poet under a gun

my spirit wanders
along crooked lines
of desperate desire
and lingers
in this open wasteland
waiting to be
disintegrated and reborn

one false trip
one fast step
with two words
and three songs
slowly played
into a smooth decline
of perfect symmetry

i’m too old for this game
and too drunk to remember
the technical vitality
of a nervous promise
of radiant, divine
and skinny poetry

too many wasted nights
too many naked bodies
and only the faint hint
of cruel integrity
to light the fuse
of our playful absurdity

one eye closed
half a heart open

i was unfairly destined
to charm a multitude
of feline souls
towards ambitious distraction
and litter the world
with the gradual hypocrisy
of hazy humanity


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