A glowering beat ****** shuffles frayed hems over avenue I, propped up preened, through the door he trips, to find a pew All this, I watch with a dour view
Down in a beanery where souls are served coffee with a shot consciousness, who nibble on curated cakes of ****
Awaiting liberation from these surroundings It's a cacophony of diatribe, cackles, Disenfranchised, dim-witted opining. Counting, quarter time of a song I’d sing to myself if this woman before me would just stop talking over the music in my headphones; she's talking to me from a bag of bones
“You resemble my brother at Microsoft.” I asked, “well, is that good?” And then she asks if I too work at Microsoft - I detach one earplug, and spit at her feet "I can't imagine why I would."
Crazy. We, those, who dare to thrive like dew clung to a thin thread of spider silk; and how we slide down, in a moment, a little more when the breeze of our prey, quivers the chord
My deeper thoughts ride out on the tip of a swordfish dipped in fine finned fears; from the undercurrents of this vicious tide, to throttle the banshee that screams with eyes filled with crystal tears, that fall into my coffee mug and sweeten the slake of our bitter drug.