Sculpture

 

 

Mute mannequinesque mongrels of mayhem

Predestined to be disturbed

He’s a different creature than me

Preferring other smells and a varied ambiance

To fill his heart with glee

Withering whether wondering why the sky is blue

Causing cases of calamity in thee

The wandering warrior of philosophy

Driven asunder pulled under and surfaced again

Wringed dry by the seasons of time

Hazy burn of sun light through the overcast

World outside

Strings my eyes I need to cry

And release a feed for the seed of a new dawn

Gripping cloaking suffocating my pores

Breathe in sweat hot and humid lithosphere

Danger of becoming one with the inner being

Who coo’s and cackles like a fresh born baby

And maybe seen in this permeating gleem

Are all of my reasons for being

When that exposes a clearer need

I cannot stay away much longer