Bespoke and misleading
And missing time.
Don’t ask my name anymore
It hurts me too much in my soul
My feet have begun to blister
And my eyes don’t like to open.
What day has taken my mind
Lost amidst the wind
For clouds have come and woven their way
Amidst the mustard seed sour.
Chaos and slumber collide into
A lackluster whimsical spree
Growth no longer on my mind
Spared and distant forsooth.
I’m scared to understand,
Letting ideas ride deep
Into sleepless nights
And I wonder what ifs.
I don’t let wizards
Paint my low brow dark,
I keep satin stains
Along smirk marks of my face.
I crawl into your yellow marks,
Finishing a day old cigarette
That tastes sour
And makes me upset again.
Counterpose my excellence
To a sprinkling good luck,
Nickel and dime water fountain.
I’m going back underground.
Designed and betrayed
The dandelion reaches proud.
An arc culminating in a golden crown;
Surrounded by disciples.
So fresh, so close to sour
Yet so understandably healthy
In this alternate way of living.
To be flesh, then wither away.
Flounder into delicate wind swaps
Floating on forth, forever more.
I do not know where the rose petals fell;
Floating from my conscience as I lost sight of all.
Leaving an impression, like tail winds trickling
Into the evanescence of my breath.
But you who art sight! What cometh of thy history,
Lost into thy pool of still waters shaking.
I fell one warm, kind day – a moon’s length away,
Into the feelings of a warm blooded kiss.
My littered floorboards of mother natures spoil
Tickled my memory while I shook out my whiskers.
I laid there and laughed for the whiskey surged my sour,
And love settled down beside me, for I was delirious.