A Silent Prayer To A God Who Politely Excused himself From The Room

I lost the will to travel the world,
collecting scraps of lost wisdom from ramshackle ruins because I got a cheap run at the blackjack table.
Leaving the slides I’d have shown
as ghosts,
things in the past
where hindsight is 20/20
because the gamblers run is short lived...

you know what I mean though
investing in mythical thinking like goldman and sachs on a blue chip prospect

what if I was a fire that never went out, never budged an inch,
a hiss from the crack in the sunburnt sidewalk
mid summer, where every street corner is another possibility
you squandered

as the sigh of those going to mindless jobs for their cheap bit of theatre
a bread and circuses affair
an orgy of intellectuals headed by a retarded child
that listens to the prayers of dogs in the breach of evening,
each howl sends a shiver,
a portent of the depths we've plumbed.
An eye looking into a mirror only to see an abyss
of politicians talking double speak.
Where the dissonance
Is a tune hammered on a half filled bagpipe, wielded by an ADHD patient,
hyped up on cocaine.

we see the whispers of people on buses
praying for insanity to win out
because god is a wilful
capricious bastard,
who would light his Cuban cigar
with the embers of a child.