A Broken Scale

Somewhere between their Saviors
consumption and a new prescription,
I lost it;
the humming demoralizing dread
that had propelled my five feet flesh
and ten inches desire into the abyss,
dark, damp preordained as paradise
by modern Plato.

But motion unabated, my mind
a lazy correspondent, dried ink,
I descended on, blind, ashen eyed.
Where have I gotten to now?
Still I want it, in plus three years,
disowning a forests weight of loose leaves
and opened mouth, cod fish, expectations.
Do they think me an above average failure,
branded raw, red eyed with the blade
of mediocracy? (Do I care?)
To which jury, bloodied innards or cacophonous peers,
shall I break the scale?



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s