Words from the ghetto of
Your rigid mind.
And they slide down
Perching, through the
Labyrinth of mutilated
Thoughts.
The life out of it losing
All objectivity and
The objectivity having
Squeezed out of life..
As they cascade down
Via the pretense of
A verbose pen to spread
On the charade of a paper.
The reader has to tie
It up to a chair to beat a
Confession out it,
For some meaning..
Only to give up in dejection,
To flush it down into
Forgetfulness; in search of
A better meaning to life..
Than this tragedy
Called poetry.
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