Too Late
It’s always too little, too late.
I recognized my ego today,
I spoke with my ego of gray.
I told it be weary of all the aches.
I was shocked when it answered back to say,
Things will tear, things will break, things will form, things will shape.
If ever one could confront,
before it’s too late.
Sirens, Byrons, Loose Articles
The lot of furry ingrates,
Turned to strange spectacle,
Arranged in pure erectile.
These locks and chains hold me prisoner,
These bars and checkmates,
Furious as kissing her.
Slake foreign attention,
The scarlet gauntlet of beckoning,
With a March of mockery.
You’ll meet lows and woes,
Inside the greatest of hopes.
Dilate my parasite you dope.
Not ready, She’s ready,
I’m ready for the human zoo.
Tell me why,
Red sirens scour the sky.
A lukewarm bomb waltz,
Spitting in my eyes,
I would have made it,
but I visited the other side.