deepundergroundpoetry.com
Wrong Side of Life
Between the eyes and veil of Twilight's philosophy
in pages of my mind held in escrow. With a scent of
chicanery dripping from the quill playing ink spots
pirouetting like shadows. Sipping slowly from an
Absinthe minuet. Listening to static on the radio
speaking to the chowder. As if scarabs in my dreams
chained to the canes in the cloned fields of
Purgatory. Waiting on Charon's Love Boat. Holding on
to the wrong side of life, gone fishing.
in pages of my mind held in escrow. With a scent of
chicanery dripping from the quill playing ink spots
pirouetting like shadows. Sipping slowly from an
Absinthe minuet. Listening to static on the radio
speaking to the chowder. As if scarabs in my dreams
chained to the canes in the cloned fields of
Purgatory. Waiting on Charon's Love Boat. Holding on
to the wrong side of life, gone fishing.
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