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Sep 2010
The other night I spent at a barn party,
A hole mess of disgruntled youth,
Each writhing like mystics caught in a trance.
Each with their own glow-stick crowns,
Funneling through their brains ,
Comatose limbs and lashing tongues.

Goodbye my sweet children,
As I watch them sputter down the drain,
An entire generation lost to the Euphoria
Of crazed spin doctor hypnotists.

Each running for a new glass of punch,
Loud electro-pulsing angst fills the air,
How dare he blow his smoke at me.
***** lines and failed acrobats,
Wild youth and ****** veterans.

Each morning, wake up,
Teacher tells you you’re wrong,
Go home, get in bed,
Wait for dreams to come like waves
Crashing down overhead on your sweet pillow.

Never has the true disgust come out,
Drunken women throwing themselves at me,
Twisting and jeering to the rabid pulsation,
I cannot find him.
Fighting through an endless sea of ecstasy,
Brief Nostalgia takes hold.

It is gone, gone like the wind blows,
Through tunnels, over oceans.
Will I see the light of day again?
Maybe,
Just one more glimpse of the sun.
Original, Written 9/12/10
Written by
Bryar Trent
890
   Bryar Trent
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