Languidly she wanders
through hopeless desert night.
To the east,
the shaman’s tent.
Sorcery and magic unknown.
This must be God.
What was he like?
She was an asshole.
Journey more into the dessert’s blindfolded vastness,
hot with life, wishful dance and granular pumice feet.
Poisoned crocodile madness.
Thick black night
specked with white wish.
Belt lash soaked back,
scar tissue weeps at the seam.
Oh sorceress grant me forgetfulness and liquid star spangled bangle tiger cages of rout iron soul.
Pry me open, call on me to pray, dance in broken desert wind.
Mother, father, son, dead soul daughter.
Find them at the bottom of the pool. A pool of youth death games in soft cars.
Dead in the night
he put up no fight.
Cages and rages.
Where do we go to be born again into merry-go-round roles?
Dead the handsome lad following his father’s footsteps.
He seeks not glory and honour but acceptance and love.
I’m sick of my person
Can I have another?
Ubiquitous prayer ceases to entrance new followers.