haven and haven’t

wretched rejection of rancid affection, the regression of oppression, a lesson in lesions, depression is draped over shoulders sore from steady sobbing, robbing the day of light, a blank slate, work down by the elemental discourse of disconnected disease deemed dire and dreary

the light filters through yon fog to signal false hope springing infernal, for where there is dream there is waking, this life meant for the breaking , of taking and raking the ash of emotional distress, to tumble and crumble, a jumble to fumble the humble fool into a new pit of torment untrue, defile the incessant cries of the young crushed under heel

this affliction, this tremendous addiction, trials and tributaries of poisoned streams that feed the ever bubbling tribulations of timeless, ceaseless agonies, frozen fires that gently caress the bellies of the brooding, the broken echos of passionate pangs of subtly being ground to gravel, raked across the gray coals of time and left with half baked notions of ever lasting grief

the truth is seldom as clear as the obsidian smoke that keeps hope afloat, the recycled imaginings of the leprous chemtrails left behind by those that scurry into the dark, for the light is a harbringer, the death slinger of those that follow their heart, if the world is a haven for artists, then reailty is a haven’t for art

6 thoughts on “haven and haven’t

  1. I love these super clever word-play poems you do. It’s awesome. And I feel like my IQ is much lower than it is just for the fact I can’t do these sorts of things. I feel like the drooling cross-eyed step-child of poetry comparatively.

    Liked by 1 person

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