Life is a gig
One twig
With no fig
No fruits
Just bitter bark
Baiting the waiting dear
The acrid swill
The **** you feel
When you swallow
Placebo pills
Maybe right now
I am bitter to
Maybe tomorrow
Will bring a better
Less bitter brew
A sweet scented
Flower kissed
With early morning dew
Maybe it will bring me you
And I will gift you
With poetry and smiles
But now
Is a poem of loss and pain
I wrote once
And I will write again
The cycle
Today is death’s dirges
****** purges
Of penciled sorrow
The stencils I borrowed
Are brown with
Burial dirt
The truth hurts
And all my metaphors
Are just beautiful butterflies
Fanciful fashioned distractions
Life is just a temporary gig