Where shopping is a plesaure

Get lost

Covalent esoteric bonds
sever the nerves from this jangled body
and inhibit the pulse of days
from obliterating the future.
At least with one hard swoop
the meandering atmosphere can take back
what rightly belongs
to those who’ve subcontracted its services,
and those who damned it from the beginning
will drown in the hazy afterglow
of a relationship near consummated
and an energy lost to its jaded worldview.
At least the attitudes
and platitudes
will burn too,
sent up in the black smoke,
telling us indecision reigns,
that man
is decreed by god
is decreed by man
to lead man
to god.

Maybe that’s all we were searching for from the beginning.
Maybe this is a middle finger
telling you
to get lost.

-10/25/2017

More Poetry

Advertisements