Iambic pentameter
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If maybe were a promise, it would be Worse than the lie that tells us all we’re free. ‘Cause freedom is a figment of the mind. To force us all into a mortal bind. Just a lie told to us by the rich. For all they care we’d all die in a ditch. You’re privileged…
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Familiar wafts of scent flow from her hair—A hug elicits flashbacks in your mind.A Pink Floyd concert back in ‘94—A moment frozen in its place and time. Her breasts, pressed against your chest as ifShe wants to send a message with her bust.And suddenly you recall regal riffsWhich play inside your head. Their lovely lust—…
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I know that once I write these words, their lives At once will both begin and start to end. And no one will be digging through archives. There likely won’t be be’ings like us again. We’ve made a mess impossible to mend. And I can almost not endure the days. Successive torture in a thousand…
Musings of the Mad 