My life is a tarot deck,
Signposts in the abstract,
Flow past way back,
Follow that,
Swallow that.
Rowing with the current,
Ambulance urgent,
Nothing is certain,
Spotlights, red curtains.
So many lines,
And the value of time,
Speaks terrorist mind,
Fear for the future,
Yours versus mine.
I'm all turned around,
choking in the burned down,
the crackling of the kindle
is the only game in town.
I painted it black,
I've fainted from lack,
of oxygen, on again,
I'm off again.
Prophets are never honest
The belief is the only thing
that balances conscience.
For if I reside in world of my own creation,
my choices and my situation,
need a reconciliation.
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