Daytime Is A Bastard To My Existence

1

 

Cast aside

torn apart

by wolves

picked clean by vultures

and sapped of any manhood left

by desperate bitches

wishing not to be able to walk

when morning light

strikes their thighs

still gleaming from my light

injected into their living

yet lifeless

souls

trudging in the desert

frost bitten by the night

the moon closes the wounds

with songs sung by starlight

till I’m asleep in a dream

sunlight opens them up again

tearing my spirit

ripping the soul

daytime is bastard to my existence

and the clouds are the mob

mocking me with cover

only to reveal rays brighter

sharper

than before

eating food takes energy

and it tastes sweet for such

a short time

I wish it never did

to begin with

where I’m walking

mishappen footprints may tell

a flock of crows

drone on and on

If only I was David

I’d strike them with thunderous bolts

and eat their brains fresh

as nature

did to mine

when I was born

I was not given eyes

to see people

nor the ears

to hear them

I can only guess

how they feel

and predict after practice

what their words mean

those genuinely cunning

and others

desperate for a one night stand

they’re all bred

from the same cloth

and the fire

turns all to dust

Β 

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