MisterPoetry
Bluelighter
My sense of depth took a nose dive,
now I touch down
in choking inkblot
forrests with
borderless bottomlines.
Where fine print isn't
spelled out clearly, speckled
spot on spaced disregard
for taste, talent,
trust and truth.
Dramatic dialouge aside,
reciting lines is
common courtesy in
the pitfall perils of reality.
Gripping testimonies with
scattered eye contact,
darting flightiness abound us,
while crying out
for attention.
To my recollection the boy who cried
wolf soon lost his life,
yet no one
blames the wolf who took it,
only the lack of
maturity.
It is these wolves I cry will
get us all in their jaws,
biding time and out of
sight out of mind theories
turning lectures to
conjecture.
now I touch down
in choking inkblot
forrests with
borderless bottomlines.
Where fine print isn't
spelled out clearly, speckled
spot on spaced disregard
for taste, talent,
trust and truth.
Dramatic dialouge aside,
reciting lines is
common courtesy in
the pitfall perils of reality.
Gripping testimonies with
scattered eye contact,
darting flightiness abound us,
while crying out
for attention.
To my recollection the boy who cried
wolf soon lost his life,
yet no one
blames the wolf who took it,
only the lack of
maturity.
It is these wolves I cry will
get us all in their jaws,
biding time and out of
sight out of mind theories
turning lectures to
conjecture.
