We used to loiter

In the alleys of our minds

Disinterring our secrets

Like grave robbers

Scavenging for wealth


We marveled at our memories

As if each grotesque contour

Held some great revelation

As if we were dark heroes

Whose cabalistic afterimage

Would deter all nefarious intent


Therapy was for people

With weaker constitutions

We kept rusty scalpels

In our back pockets

Like dog-erred copies of

Bukowski’s “Ham on Rye”

Ready to bleed for any cause


Seduced by taphonomy

We concealed bottles in paper bags

Drinking from untasted philosophies

We were rank with inexperience

Intoxicated by our own inhumanity

And hazardously arrogant

The irony that we had become

Our own nemeses wasn’t lost

But youth entitled us to indiscretion


3 thoughts on “Cheap Prophet

  1. Reblogged this on mindlovemisery and commented:

    I apologize but I will be away for the majority of the day once again and because my internet is painfully arthritically slow I am having a hard time making my blog rounds. The Internet issues should resolve beginning of June luckily!

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