Trigger Warning
let insanity run its course
let wells dry
and thoughts go awry
embrace the natural rivers
of intention
let the sound of silence
become intimidating
beyond belief
run to your pen
write it in blood
you got to lay down
what come out
ya got to got to got to
listen not to
editors,
speaketh not
with fashion mongrels
consort not
with the sober
or those who’ve found faith
charles b had
cats and smoke
i have
darkness and ennui
and this curious
and annoying penchant
for developing
infantile rhymes
after the day has
once again
closed down.