A Punch To The Stomach
Desperate,
and rested...
So many tests- why is this my ONLY best?
The next week is a jumble,
like life’s one big rumble.
Stress, after stress,
here the moon tests.
From this precipice
all the lunar and rampant constellations
coincide,
lies revise,
Wait, shivering sneeze...
a world at peace, yet all this thumping
It must be something, it is always something...
hmph... ‘please’...
Between those matadors in the violent rush of the bloody river
and those behind a somber shade at the bottom of the scaly glades,
there is me;
The dragon of the night,
the one slowly shifting from the
light,
I’ll linger longer lividly.
The cymbals crash ahead of my mashed, and slighly bashed, thinking thing.
“Ring or dong?”
I can’t remember the song,
It goes along a decrescendo,
it has rails as it does a reptilian scale,
to no avail I wail,
this Diamond night covers the greedy tight, hope they feel just right.
Here I am just thinking, a puddle of quick
sand
and
I’m still sinking.