Timothy J. Burgess
Timothy J. Burgess Poems
Your lettered confession the incantation that traps me in psychosis, keeps
Me waking.
In the stoic still, I'm churning, thinking. Awareness engulfs me in embrace,
Blinking its battered eyes under the bruised and brooding night sky
...
Societal issues, adorned with obtrusive stitches.
Seven in sodom still in the trenches,
Entrenched in the fissures
Of a stand still stent, rebelling the venerated tenure
...
I am myself no more
While waltzing the starlit pores of the maimed moor,
Miming the maestro's virtuosity
While leaning lightly on the moon's magnificent score.
...
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Premonition
Your lettered confession the incantation that traps me in psychosis, keeps
Me waking.
In the stoic still, I'm churning, thinking. Awareness engulfs me in embrace,
Blinking its battered eyes under the bruised and brooding night sky
Whispering,
'You'll be left alone to die.'
Furious honesty floats from your lackluster lips, another promise missed.
Another claim made by a malicious misfit, in the midst of all this
We watch with our eyes rolled back in high and holy fits.
We never imagined an evil so near and real,
So intimate that it steals whatever it desires
And desire is what consumes us all under the squelching sequels of the
Squealing sprawl, while Hope whispers,
'You were all primed and prone to fall.'
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4/25/2024 3:51:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
