Nothing but a shadow
moving through dark night
with silver made tiptoes
walking wonder contradiction
wondering the deserted halls
of the questions you should ask
yourself late at night
Empty vessel
I ain’t even the urn
that engraved
the soul
of the last dead poet
Not a poem
but a prayer
Maybe a pretender
merely
a pretentious pixel puppet
haunted by the
consequence of
turning metaphysical mirrors
in metaphorical bone dogs
cheerfully barking:
a selfish promise of infinite
a warring chant for our future battles
a warning to power we’ll fight from power
bonedogs
boned barkings
dead reflections
ritual calling
