(photo by author)

death to pleasantries and smiles

this sourness harkens to no joy

and my tiredness is worthy a kingdom of sleep

this sickness of sound

perversion of sense

the need for silence and solitude

far from the banality of speech

from the sickness of rabid purposelessness

the death of meditation and grace of stillness

is there any more pepperoni over there,

i’m going to take one if there is

the sun, bringer of light of life

armageddon a few miles closer

perhaps i should have been a beast

leaving no restraint unabandoned

instead i wear a skin of that beast

now a perverted item of luxury