Right now…
Kings and queens linger in their habitual pontification,
Breathing in pseudo-concern and exhaling a genuine mistrust.
They are trapped in their ever inconstant seasons.
Rotten memories perspire through
disintegrating canvas skin,
soaked through with the guilt and regret of schizophrenic delusions.
The devils nest beneath the nape
and vindictively peel away brittle strands
of skeletal tissue.
I am plagued with drunken posture
and a self diagnosed insanity,
huddled on the streets
peeling back the acidic skin
from my naked, bruised feet—
I’ve been walking on glass between heaven and hell
stuck in a drug induced purgatory.