The World is Your
IMAGINATION
Says the One Dimensional Man
Who is Always on Time
Not Where He Thought He’d Be.
Homeless He Dwells
In His Home,
Surrounded By People
And No One To Talk To
I Sit In Our Parallel
Universe
By the Furnace
I Smolder
This Storybook World
Into Smoke Spirals
How Many Times
Can I Sell My Soul?
Twisted Realities
Give Me Sinking
Feelings Of Truth
That Ground Me Like
An Anchor.
The Vase of
Dead Autumn Flowers
Saturates my Perceptions
Beauty Surrounds Me
In Sinister Obscurity
Comedic Tragedies
Mesmerize My Disgraceful
Entertainments
Until Cracks Begin to
FORM
In My Empires of Greatness
And I Return as An
Earthworm
Dangling on The
Broken
Tree Branch
Forgetting
Where
The Bridge Was
Taking Me.