COPYRIGHT by AUTHOR and CIVITASDEI.US
Of Junkies, Sheep, and Dreams
There were days where nobody ate,
So reluctant to let go
of the last little drops,
Fearing the loss of
an inebriated buzz
But there were times
when our bodies revolted
and everything purged from within itself,
It felt, on occasion,
Like a clean start.
Here we are
in resemblance to the Manson family
Dwelling on a forgotten movie set.
We play, sing,
celebrate
Like pixies—
corrupted and rotted by LSD.
It is commonplace
to mend the spirit
through evasion,
But here!
Here is enlightenment.
A perspective from outside my window,
Looking in upon myself
-with horror!-
but there was nothing
I did not already know.
* * *
An overdose—
of the unintended kind
The beautiful fashion mourning hats
though nobody died.
A tragic tragedy indeed!
The line between overindulgence and high
so obscured
and close in company.
Who are they to say
this methodical act is not working!
Casting flaccid judgments,
Convictions—
Wolf! Witch!
Hunt them!
Burn them alive!
Protect the sheep
From this outlandish predator,
those poor little lambs…
They would follow the Marauder Piper
off the end of a towering crag
none the wiser—
for they are innocents
Like and shallow minded
being herded along
in a busy-hustle-shove
toward a seemingly beautiful ideal
of a golden dream,
But woe be to those
who have fallen in their pursuits
and settled
with their broken dream and sadness
perplexing in naked desperation
to know
if this is as good
as it is ever going to get.
They too are haunted,
unable to leave the places
where nightmares have been.
