Lynne Looks Back

Give me a taste of
What I had
Break this monotonous
Slow moving dream
The suns warmth
Has dulled the
Midnight brilliance
I bought with
Blood and steel

Scattered fragments
Soul grows weary
Indifferent, detached
All the complacent faces
Flotsam and jetsam
Drifting aimlessly through my world
Sedated victims whose
Suburban visions are
Too easily sated

Rounded pebbles littering
A dry lakebed
Inhabiting houses that constrict my view
No definitive shape or form
Trinkets distractedly fondled
Before you set them aside
Or put them back in their box

Take this autonomic existence away
None too soon
Give me a taste of the
Angular, shadowy world
I once had