each of us is
a biodegradable mass
of accumulated dreams
wasting away
in the cookie cutter
monotony broadcast
a pollution of
manufactured distraction
distorting desires into
disambigious dementias

i think of poor pessoa
trapped in his small room
an ink well
as a substitute for
satiation as he longs
for new visions to be
plastered upon
the same horizons that
curse an acknowledgement
of sustained stagnation

the poor posture of
poetic predestination
in skeletal remains
hunched over a
poorly lit desk as
the predilection toward
an unending parade of
prostrated impossibilities
pervade the petulance
in passionate prose

a litigious liturgy
in linear decline
the blowflies swarm the
overladen dreamcatchers
wriggling remnants
an entrapment of
silken strands slowly
suffocating beauty as
will is pulped into a
slurry of sluggish regret