Find Your Piece of Peace of Mind

Every day the same routine, I clean my slate with kerosene; I end the night all by myself and wake up still instilled in stealth. Invisible, man I don’t know, so miserable, won’t let it show, divisible by nothing, squat, if you don’t fit, then get forgot.

My love for love is fire hot, I’m glove to glove with people taught to tater tot, potato sack, away their passion, mash it back. My back is broke from all this weight, I’ve taken on in hope of fate, my date with destiny won’t show, so dead inside, I’m called “The Crow.”

I try to grow into the man that writes just like a King, The Stand, and stand up to those fears of fail, that lure me in and don’t let bail. Imprisoned by a prism dimmed by darkness art and crimson limbs, my sleep creeps with the reaper, grim, my shot at love’s above the rim.

I trim the fat, but find the beef, it’s like my beings been bequeathed, it’s like I’m seeing entropy in every door I’m entering. I’m centered but my mind still sways and doe-see-does with rainy days and row’s me deep into abyss, I was the shit, but now I’m piss.

I’m missing, but there’s still no search, my absence grows long like the Lurch, my perch atop the top has dropped and no one’s here to hear me flop. I’m rocking back and forth in chairs, electrical, and full of flare, this jolt will take me to the air, my final frequent flier fare.

Just bear in mind, my time is bare, my overcoat’s my underwear; my ranger’s roving through the dirt at 88 and braced to hurt. The curtained sky’s my only friend, an endless blend of light it lends, some sparks of hope I’ll hope to find, out in my search for peace of mind.

Written by Tyler Wagner