Establishment of the mundane as the right path
of responsible actions is the final lock
on shackles that stifle free movement. Devil math
calculates equi-facts so that human livestock
feel as though progress through pre-designed pens is made,
as if there was purpose or point to this stumbling
waste of precious moments. My beard now deeply greyed
by accumulated days, missing that rumbling
stomach of youth, hungry for something real, not more
distractions to help the daze be gazed away while
dreams are razed, chasing c.r.e.a.m.'s siren song deceits for
another hour, day, month, year... a lifelong beguile.
This internal jihad between dirtgod and white
devil leaves me lost some days too far gone from right.
No comments:
Post a Comment