The Bitter-Bitter

Of all the things that earth yet whelps

a spirit stands by wonder of the mass

humanity cycles through the grass;

it springs by blazing lights

onto pavement struck by nights

running roughshod over skin and sin

a dancing has-been formed of thought’s chagrin.

Beneath the wan light, a man does dream of neon exits

too dull to see the dancer’s fed him by the bit,

because oblivion is just another state of mind

a symptom of the daily grind.


Across the bar, blue eyes murmur: the bitter helps.

3 thoughts on “The Bitter-Bitter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s