A.D.D. Poem by Bera Tremoz

2155, it flashes
it flashes
reminding me
that at some point
in a neverending
looting of unessential
factors and assets
of compounds and passive
emotional breakthroughs
mythologically appearing
within a specific
time line
barricaded into some
psychic realm of new
challenging disparities,
that at some point
interacting
with the chaos induced
expectancies
a butterfly's
wings might possess
I will
grow bored and forget
I even tried to write
about the death
of a minotaur
I once drank with.