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Surrounded, by wet,
sycophantic blankets,
and, lettuces,
that, forever,
call, each, and, all,
of, your names,
slipping, sliding, but, set,
pernicious gambits,
that, play apart,
whilst together,
in, capricious dreams aflame.

The current,
flies, and, pulls,
at, your sleeves, and, collar,
waves, of, ennuied electricity,
from, a powerplant, of, shame,
overhead, the,
screeching gulls,
bribed with, seafaring dollars,
and, kinetosis-carried-ambiguity,
in, surreptitious dreams aflame.

‘Your words,
are, all that matter.’
‘Your worth,
is, the only thing at stake.’
You’re diving,
headfirst through a cliché,
ducking, and, dodging,
a world of superstition,
repeating,
“things will never be the same”
but, as, bursting bone, and, blood,
do, splatter,
and, your soul takes leave,
for, it’s own, sardonic, sake,
you’ll, be “glad”, you prayed,
every, and, each day,
as, you, set light,
to, Gods, fear, and, religion,
in, transcendental dreams aflame.

© poormansdreams

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