Static

Sitting quietly amongst the noise I travel on the horseless steel caravan
 
Seeds of guilt are planted and they cultivate restlessly in my mind...
 
Burning ignorance
 
Even as I scribe it plagues me!
 
My own anarchist desires as unique as an army lemmings -- How original...
 
My tongue is made of lead and my saliva mercury bullets
 
Unable or perhaps just unwilling to shut my yammering noise box, it spews relentless, babbling idiocy into my life's endeavours...
 
Acting as a veil blinds me to reason
 
...While the caravan moves on there is a stench that lingers
 
It reeks of week old piss and staggers like a blind drunk; it is almost pitiful... If it were not so pathetic!
 
Scanning the horizon my ever watchful eyes peruse the faceless sea for our fearless leader but with the subtly of a weak minded fool he effortlessly avoids my gaze
 
Surely he too is without answers
 
...The droning hum of the noise becomes deafening and it hisses like an unfocused television
 
In my crackling static camouflage, waiting for uncertainty, I will vanish
 
A subway shadow chasing the midnight train -- A solemn traveller without a name
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written and published by A Nameless Traveler  A.K.A.  -Andrew F. R. Kerklaan