Trophy

Too many times blank, too many times lost.
Too much time unequilibriumized.
Fight through the Tuesdays, with their beatnik rhymes and Circle K poetry.
Fight through cable television.
Fight through atrophy…
The quads, the heart and the brain…
Photographs of smiles – no memories to match,
Tripping time to mind, the key’s lost in the latch.

To many, time’s blank – two-penny time’s boss
Two such crime’s inconsequencialized.
Fight through my blues ways, uncommitted eyes and Glory-Tried growing beans.
Bite two ladle-dipped contusions.
Fight through apathy…
Death squads depart from the train…
Photographs of miles – never eyes-glazing back,
It’s my mind to trip – three knives into the back.