"Pet Project"

I am the incarnation of a psycho that never quite made it.

Eloquence; Disregard strayed from but never far

Flame in a Winter cabin

Left years ago but the door's ajar.

Consequently immortalized by the screams of wavered souls

Brought down back to earth but still not much at home.

Tantalized and bruised, confounded but not abused,

In the end it was all a ruse and the only one to blame,

Is you.

Misty skies await the days like the spitting image of an odyssey

Frowned upon,

By the likes of scholars with mixed remarks different cultures held in bad regard.

Evolution remissly spurned, touched by hell but never burned,

Many lessons yet never learned

Gig's all botched up, and now,

It's their turn.

Sit back down, it's only just begun, a couple more for the mothers, fathers and a few for the daughters and sons.

Style deteriorated crossed out, jaded away like some faded mistake played out by a lunatic on Broadway.

Cellular algorithms emancipated, set free again the minds unshackled by rhyme, fate, disarray or even Lady Time.

Believing it to be a miracle from an act of a bygone era, lead astray through mass media and the only cure it seems is for the

Entire population to revert back into amoeba.

It would be a crime to limit a person to one type of self expression.

Yet people try, all the while.

So what's it matter?

You'd be lucky to get a read-through;

Much less a single smile.