Mesmerizing memorabilia,
incapacitated, inundated,
and, momentarily, illuminated,
passes by the window
of insomniac tortured
dreamless nights.
Perfumed with the heavy scent
of restless pacing,
wondering, wandering, wayward
and wasted,
cringing behind the curtain,
calculating the cost.
Dusting off the coffee can
under the floorboard,
saved for rainy days
and sleepless nights
such as these.
And those palpating visions
of meaningless specters
that haunt ridiculous passageways
in this labyrinth of nagging idioms,
scratching at the raw brain
with claws infected
by the bugs of fire and brimstone
that make prophecies fulfill themselves .
And regrets as laughable
as Lucifer’s shrill gurgling trail of desire.
Ensnaring fools
in a tar baby world without end.
Apparently the buck stops here.
And naturally, the cost depends
upon the quality of the rape.
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