The weekend loomed.
I looked inward and saw
a tired spirit
It ran on expired nitro
A sort of Death
beckoned to me
singing of hope, sleep
and solitude
This was not to be
My id and ego longed for silence
and yet the clamour here
shifted it's g-force
expanded exploded
colours, shapes, smells, feelings,
thoughts, sounds
a light flash of words
a spiralling miasma
of th'narcissistically
love-negging tones
of unconsciously handsome
but toxic also-rans
in their graviton pants
their newtonian life force
defeated by the pedestrian power
of my humble lil thumb
on the mute & archive button
the only kill-switch
that makes it right
their penumbra floating
beyond every line of sight
Step out and look into the sea
a benediction of the blue waters
The pulse roared in crimson
for an end to their drama
Blood demands blood.
Do not gladiate
in reactionary verbal violence
to all the hatred.
The submissive reinforcement
is denied and rejected
A psychological solution
a pruning
a topping from below
Step out and be still
The sky Listens.
Here's to Inktober 2023 (Weekend #1)
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