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Sunday, August 12, 2012

bees in the trap

a string of conscience i inherited
had me farising,
more deadly than a hippopotamus
crushing a larynx.
laryngeal vibrations were derelict
scarce were the thoughts in this head
even on warm sunny days
wars beg for make shift graves.
her legs open for play dates
a late night fate,for yours truly
unruly waves on the lake hint to storms making there way over the front range,
a lurid sunset hinted to me to waste my wages
on wagers & fate
faith in the everlasting flow,and the way things play
out & about I felt my soul grow
with every word
dates became clones & my mind was a ghost
boasting about being roasted during toasts to the underworld
swarms of emotion stung every moment
bees in the trap
life is but a coma.

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