Spit
The emptiness encasing this spirit
amounts to facing the winds
letting loose with gobs of spit
it may or may not
reach a target
nothing really ever changes
those with too much
tend to be huge satellites
bouncing into each other
relying on friction
or factual fiction
soused up on prescriptions
the medical profession
are only happy to prescribe
slowly eating away the insides
with soothing poisons
numbing sensations
as the quality of life degrades
prayers are said
plans are waylaid
off to the cliffs
like sheep to the sea
jumping into conformity
feeling the need to spit
another artistic endeavor
will ride out
this stormy emotional weather
since integrity overrides doubt
and the craving slugs
needing their drugs
regardless of a life
rendered senseless
mathiasthom
written 4/9/11
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