Living the Nightmare

Many would argue the spirit of man has been so abused, that distinction between the sub-conscious perception and the conscious is destined to remain a blur.

Living The Nightmare
                    by Odin Roark

Awake in a nightmare
He leaves scratches
Atop the licorice ribbon
His winding street
Through utopian cotton candy
Blowing in the wind
Once of gale force
A temper now but a breeze

His sack of intangible gold dust
Best sprinkled along dreamer’s highway
Through the burial grounds
Of hearts left pumping airless wonder
While white bones aka jazz sticks
Tumble rhythms across
Weeded skins stretched taut
Joining deserts come alive
With blooming orchids now drenched
In sweet lather of well chewed delusions

How rich this person of interest
Ready not for judgment’s road kill
Even as heavenly vultures bemoan
While fireflies emblazon life’s levitation
Along the trail left behind
Inviting guilt to whirl dervishly
Into emotions of joyful release

How fortunate the enigma

Graveyards of living continue
Where pious mountainous gestures
Stillborn by self-righteousness
Cartwheel their legless forms
With the glee of sophistry
Knowing so well
What can never be known

Such is puzzled innocence awakened
Once wrapped ugly by confessional tears