Moth Man Lament

Chasing this into that chasing that into this chasing silhouettes into a half assed crevasse echoing " boy what is your purpose on this earth earth. Poking the dark for a piece of velvet, a note from a harp A claw pokes at the skin of the soul a change of direction is needed again... pronto Mamma was right nothing good comes from out of the dark. Eating the light like a greasy moth pitting parched lips against brightness. Just another false prophet holding an empty bic in the cul-de-sac of middle class wish. At least it was an honest attempt to find a grain of meaning. In the dusk of my breath, the same silhouette yaps... "Man" what is your purpose on this earth.