the zen of moving
in silent half step
across the asphalt
indignation
of sullen traffic tumors
the organism
is in the death throes
of poor organization
sputtering in the final throes
of orgasmic release
tally ho
to valhalla
tally ho
on purgatory
musings of unassuming muses
transcends the cornucopia
of madness
lurking just behind
the eyes of bitter swallows
pinprick pupils
pierce pedantic principals
lacking principles in the face
of the shifting tonal arrays
of strays
Felt like I was a passenger observing with you, have often been the driver…..on the road to nowhere
LikeLiked by 1 person
it happens too often
LikeLiked by 1 person