In the deepest depths of my perception,
I find myself lost in the alcoves of misguided intensions.
Buried beneath the cobbled streets
The war of decimals and percentiles rages
While the jester smiles with a faint grin.
The chill of the damp venom burns the nostrils
Like the ashy room in the back of an old saloon.
Railroad tracks that have no end.
In the black abyss
With its ivory keys stretching across the imagination.
Winter’s chill splashing against the nakedness,
Lost but found.
Rattling and the hum of a bruised engine,
Caressing the lips of the fallen soldier,
Crashing upon the precipice of some untold virtue.
At peace, at the final rest,
Fire encompasses the soul and becomes one.
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