She weaves tantric tantrums
in between a bleeding nictate
I\'m as shallow as the river racing
through her velveteen thump drum mirage.
Bound,
to laudanum whispers
syphoning dulce litanies,
from Azazel\'s headless battalion
standing stoic as a Prozac brigade
into the throated throe
of a brumal dawn,
where the old guard stencils
kaleidoscope crucifixions
in the handicapped spectrum.
We wail greenhorn selahs
hoping it breaks
the crested caress
of a delayed cypher
vaporizing a absentee deity,
never understanding,
the contractual concept
of waking as a forsaken prism,
we only question the existence
of our collective heartaches
blind to the answer,
as it wormholes through
the macrocosms tertiary eye
into a placebo pediment
of recycled lessons,
instilling us as eternal
sentimental sediment.
Copyright ©2017 and 2018
WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent
of the author or publisher.
All my poetry is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), WhisperingQuill.