A Punch To The Stomach

Desperate,

and rested...

So many tests- why is this my ONLY best?

The next week is a jumble,

like life’s one big rumble.

Stress, after stress,

here the moon tests.

From this precipice

all the lunar and rampant constellations

coincide,

lies revise,

Wait, shivering sneeze...

a world at peace, yet all this thumping

It must be something, it is always something...

hmph... ‘please’...

Between those matadors in the violent rush of the bloody river

and those behind a somber shade at the bottom of the scaly glades,

there is me;

The dragon of the night,

the one slowly shifting from the

light,

I’ll linger longer lividly.

The cymbals crash ahead of my mashed, and slighly bashed, thinking thing.

“Ring or dong?”

I can’t remember the song,

It goes along a decrescendo,

it has rails as it does a reptilian scale,

to no avail I wail,

this Diamond night covers the greedy tight, hope they feel just right.

Here I am just thinking, a puddle of quick

sand

and

I’m still sinking.