Phony
A wet coin on the mall floor
of sanity's foolish hope
Lies next to others
thrown away by desperate measures
with limited dreams
As they sip on frappucinos;
non-fat coated sin.
Their broken backs
walking with stolen canes
off broke back mountains;
in God we doubt
Another exodus with no occupational hazards,
just dramatizations of puncturing joy on tongue
Torment cry the cries of soliloquy lunacy
Lunar eclipse of the heart;
crater meltdowns into stratospheric limitations
Libation,
poured into impurity perfection
Hollowed certainty,
sharp tongued cryptic verbiage
not claiming emotion
The crippled, run
their mouth
Silent conundrums
running towards field of dreams,
they never came
Faking it
to make it
Once again
© Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Poet Tacito | Year Posted 2011
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