Forty Thousand Nights of Flooding

Bad habits
haze glands
and fog neurons
crashing the network
with heart aches
and hard breaks
during these cold days
made of midnight sand
and calcified stone
cemented with
all these things I should not know
heavy gravity
taking its toll
Pleading the fifth –
only ever wanted
to be baptized in ignorance
to be dealt the dream of simple absolution
to be redeemed in the wanton disregard of reason
to find refuge in the plot twist of innocence
to be told the little white lie
over and over
it begins to sound
sweet enough
to accept as truth
or at least
can play the part
of the last thought
before the shadows of sleep
shroud the psyche with deceit
using the broken wings
of fallen angel apathy
to make the point moot
come the drowning

Poem prompt response for:
#MadVerse 424
#ashverse 193
#DrugVerse 64 & 65
#VerseReversal 229
#FlwVerse 4

Happy Hour Hallelujah in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Singing sweet praise unto the Holy Spirit with silent dreams of blackout consciousness. In the absolute best way possible…with a laser beam sober nature crashing the pillow…
Hit me up on Facebook and Twitter – I love to connect.
Scott Thomas Outlar

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