As the world goes to shit
Let us commit
To the extremity of it all
And with a slurred drawl
Toast to Dionysus and the gift
That toward our mouths we lift
Helping to sedate the mind
And leave us all a little blind
About the Creator
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On Pleasure, Pain, And Earthly Things
Slip Slide Battered Bruised Ahead, a wall! or A tapestry of legend No, Distraction heaven Popcorn on a Friday night. Tucked into the deep, warm covers of winter blankets, even if it’s 90 degrees outside. Dimmed lights, quieting the noise of the day. Turned blinds laying against one another like the shields of a fortress, encasing its escapee inside from those who would disturb its peace. Rolling film on the television that holds the eyes; a welcomed simulation that pulls one from consciousness into an unconscious role-play, playing god. Watching, judging, but stagnant.
By Kyla Crist4 years ago in Poets
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