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Burnt Out Nonsense PDF Print E-mail

My chakra has slipped into a funky kundalini lean

And my third eye perfunctorially falls asleep.

The susurrus of concentration in the room is deafening,

And I cringe to hear my pen's seditious scream.


I scratch out inky, incensed libations,

and stutter a prayer to the god of

"E:  none of the above".


I am a garroted, gauche plebian

the ilk of my apocryphal thesis

an ungulate with nothing but the sleeping

shadow of the door on my mind.


My spirit is a saurian traitor

slinking toward the green scent and

azure skies leaning upon the window.