Figments Of My Imaginagtion Poem by John Sensele

Prisoner to the vitriol from my fangs
I blame society for the tacky tongues
I embrace
My foibles I fail to efface

Holding fast to the prison
Where to the wind I've cast reason
Descending into seas of inferiority complex
Racing in every capillary in the flex

Conducting a symphony of the death
Whose breath marries the wraith
Strangling flows of oxygen to the neurons
In my pea-sized brain where neutrons

Bombarding sites in the cerebrum
Die in zillions when scraps of rum
Render my grandeur nil
As my present loses its will

While horrors in droves
Surge forth peeling off any treasure troves
My numb fingers strive to snatch
Cos facts and imagination figments never match

So long as I cling to castles in the air
I build on sand dunes I can't repair
In illusions I adore
When to my future reality shuts tight its door

Reminding me the chasm between a treasure and trash
Widens with each episode where I gate crash
Striving to shrink spaces between lies
I parade in diverse digits where I hobnob with a swarm of flies.