Thoughts

Sitting in the semi
dark, music pumping
in the skulls, I think

(Wish for the same old
same old, same old…)

black thoughts. Rage simmers deep
for all that I’ve gained
for all that I’ve lost.

It’s all the same to me.

I’m older now, and that means
nothing that it should.

My sword rusts from slaying
mist daemons born in
the same acidic rain
that burns through my brain
melting memory and ‘motions.

I’m at the end of myself,
but judging from the rotten
laughing clowns,
maggot faced monsters-
I’m still here,
where I’ve never wanted to be:

sitting with my thoughts.