These social somersaults make me sick,

I find I am inconsistent in my thinking,
Depending on my present company.

My internal dialogue is so messy:
Everyone's talking, nobody's listening.

Sometimes I feel as if each of us were stranded
on our own island, and our only way to communicate is by

shouting across the straits
at one and other

A form shifts from mighty spit; fermented knowledge.
Across our land these feet will sift, isolating ignorance
To this world, a gift, skin holding potent opinion.
Encephalon encased in cogitation, thought born
To burn through waste made from infantile contemplation.
A cerise snake slithers through grey; cerebral circulation,
With intelligence it’s stained, rusting the cave of veins.
Plotting mischief, flesh is torn and split; by way of swift tricks,
Life is drained of blessed crimson; a torpid ocean of wit
Spilled into cursed vases. A liquid meant to pass lips,
To share what was been gifted; mixed with honey drips,
A nectar sweet mead conceived by the passion of ugly greed.
Given to gods, and accomplished artisans to savor and drink.
While lesser beings taste that which has been excreted.

-SLuR

Sunday hung-over mornings and golden glares
avoiding the dumb-hound dogs and their disapproving stares,
a bedside table lined with more coke than wood
a night-time of regrets, of differences of whether you would or should -

beware the dumb-hound dawgs
chewing upon fingernails rotten and curled
exhaling noxious fumes and Badrock
making everything see sense in a senseless world

they stole your pitiful cranium and filled it full of idolisation
jackhammering from high to low, like station to ******* station -
yes it was good, full of *** and blissful ignorance
but the harsh light of day brings addictions ruthless persistence

not in the full throes of its torrid grasp
yet you look at the half empty packets and ask
should you carry on clean even though it stings
or should you strangle your strength and clip it's wings?

For drugs don't love you, it's a one way relationship that spits
they'll leave you emaciated, broken, just like your mind that splits and fits -

those pesky dumb-hound dogs you loved oh so much last night

in a few broken years time you'll wish you'd never ever set sight.

The same smoldering sun beats heavy in our burning chests,
And the same shimmering moon pulls at our wayward tides.
Yet still, we find our eyes hold these vastly different skies.

Maybe one day our clouds will connect into endless fields of rain,
Or our star-clung wishes will grow faint as we forget, once desire fades.
All these sunrises, and sunsets s t r e t c h and blend inside my veins.

I’m waiting countless days, just to see your face once before you go away.

-SLuR

Running out of time is a big lie
And age, is nothing but a numeral