Poetry Some Psyched Dynamic

[Joey]

As a sum of replicant harmony and desire to beat a drum stock off soft timbre..

I have got nothing more to give except by creating more for myself!

A reverie (and then a few more) for a few ideals kept clean..

For as often as I am here - I’ve always imagined myself a thin person..

—————

If you have ever heard a grown man screaming you through a banshee night terror..

For bloody murder, for your life, for his goals and his listless wife..

You have traced his soul and spirit across city lines in a wide freeway..

Love isn’t always (not even usually) so spirited or inspirit as it’s broken directions…

—————

I am always starving and I’m walking in lines to encircle my plate

What I have served for myself is an endless agonizing death and I’m clammed as refrigerated goes..

My time without food or a thought to provoke meal worms isn’t all that..

Not when I’m circling a vultures line around me - and I’m walking dead

—————

I’ve always been me
From past, to future scenarios
Toward the end where I can’t see
All lifelines finish in time

And as for then
we all can start again