The Dogs of Winter

The Dogs of Winter

Descend into
Silky thought,
Draped in black shrouds,
Into the pit of disillusion

Such an ugly person
Belching so fine
Tripping so awkward
Talking so violent

Freckled leaves blow by
Forming sleepy stacks
-your embarrassing thoughts
Worthless ideas, black with mildew


Fill the room with your glory
And move the starving, wasted masses aside!
You must preside!

Eyes sparkling with lusty fire
Hands shaking with excitement
Golden sweat beading on you face
Expose yourself to this dreary place

Your know the way

We are dying,
And you remained veiled

do you not care
-or is there no one under there?

Sour lands, sour times

Souls without breath,
Under the disguise

I move,
You abstain


2 thoughts on “The Dogs of Winter

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