thoughts are echoes in cranial canyons

midnight forest, un-green

the wind emanates music

from a gothic band

 

no memes could memorex

this moment

 

there is no candle burning

in a window sill for me

like a welcome mat

 

a place to hang my hat

 

i’ve worn out my welcomes

like dust on a dirt road

 

artists expose nothing but

the truth about themselves

like urine stains on a toilet seat

he was too selfish to lift

 

we pass this off as a gift

to all humanity

 

the flame on my lighter is weak

because all things must pass

and i am nowhere near

a twenty-four hour convenience store

 

you can’t have fun

if you don’t spend money

i know this is not

the meaning of life

but isn’t it?

 

we have sure made it so

 

if the doctors surmise

all that i comprise

will soon be my demise

i will not be surprised

 

i will smoke one last cigarette

before boarding the last train

write in refrain,

“words on the outbound express”

 

everyone will judge,

“he died as he lived”

never comprehending

the prison of their own perception

then dive into the depths

of their own deception

as they check their phone

social media has made them societal

 

it must have meaning

because it made me matter

 

you keep mending what is tattered

because you have been conditioned

to believe

and satin shades make you unable to see

that incarceration begins

at the inception of hopes and dreams

until your neurons are nothing

but faded photographs

infected and staffed

with what others say

should make you laugh

too frightened to falsify

the findings on their graph

because, after all,

what are we without approval?

 

***