One Touch Swirl

Bone stick strumming strings of violence

acoustic singing in supreme silence

writing in a dream of darkness

my melancholic conscious

contrived from contracted talents elastic

spitting ramblins of a man off axis

not knowin balance until the ground collapses

eye flashes,I-lashes,when dendrite synapses:

fashioned fluent actions off omniscient ancient passages

penning messages in a bottle cork capped wraped in mapped sorrow

purple wallow sentences and a purpose that

..i don know..

makes me let go sentiments

that id rather borrow

and it dont stop

the clock of tomorrow

dying star locked in the linings

of all thats astral

lookin for the light

and the here after

Rained In

Tracing the wind current

with my pinkie finger licked

drenched.. soaked ..

amidst the heavens heaved torrents

standing.. staring..

at the murk pouring

spinning skies grey

pink and musty

smelling of dry dust

that frames the painting

if you can't see

it seals the salivating

for the sunshine in waiting

in the waning dusk

wading in thoughts

of lush clouds crushed

steeped in that blue lust

perplexed by the luck of wet brows

and rain drop bumps.

Vs

General malaise

dystopian texture

pleasuring the haze

gazed @ the abyss

coined the phrase

days.. minutes..

hours.. seconds..

an oppressing premise

boundless by limits

on the fringes

blank spaces

between the edges

tallying the inches

with no images or digits

deliverance of the head

the death of id’s presence

the collage of innocence

and instincts retribution

a savage marriage of force

and inherent contents

constantly colluding

a brooding montage

unsubmissive

repetitive and cyclic

nihilistic feeling fully conscious

dueling the ever ending psyche

of reality and what might be