poetry

Proximity

With enough distance the ‎illusions‬ of ‪‎love‬ fade.

The chemical reactions of the brain fizzle as absence‬ allows for an ‪amnesia‬ of sorts.

Yet, the ‪desire ‬to be touched remains.

Those who leave marks on our memories might drive us mad...

If not for the passage of ‪‎time‬ and the touch of other ‪‎hands‬.

Ain't nothin but a me thing

In those dusty shadows lay the twisted visions of a let down generation. 

Those daydreamers, schemers, and lazy post-babyboom lemurs;

Who bide their time and abuse their minds -- fixated on fame and success.

But baby that's empty. Ain't nothing worth saving there. Get out while you can.

If you can. When you can. How you can. Put down that tall can.

Quit kicking that ole' tin can down the road. Same as it was passed to you.

Battered and dented, rusted and haunted, there's nothing in there coming out.

Faith won't fix it. Money won't buy it. Power's not so powerful here.

So don't even try it. Bullshit is not an accepted currency in this place, I fear.

smokersdelight2
smokersdelight1