FACT BEFORE FICTION

now before the altar of his life
seated on the broken bones
of a faded faux brown leather chair
pondering wise spiteful words
given through the hypocritical pose
that was the parental crucifixion

Overdosing on the silver foiled superheroes
tiny prescribed gods
waiting for tomorrows boredom of poverty
to make the not so grand entrance
spherical shaven dome
a library of painful steps
each dreaded conclusion
as only loneliness threw shade
and shadow.

Those faithful showing friends
surprised in the hiding that surrounds
blisters bleached from thin souls
dried on the crusted forlorn footed ankle

Cannibal, he eats his blown words
gasping concrete breath
travels from a surging wave of lung
placed in ribs tomb

Eyes close as the high street shops
call time
and vision dances her beauty
into jagged bleeding puddles