Frivolous Writings

My stagnant retreat in Statesboro beguiled me towards full eradication of self-development, both physical and mental, resulting into “spiritual savers mode”, a pending nuance of self.

Habitually hibernating

I wandered deep into the abrasions

Of a past let go

By a decade of decadence

And booze

I chose to wallow

In the waters of my own dismay.

A tortured temptress

Condemned by my own tenacity

Tiptoeing in the same circles

Cycles

Of mistrust

For my own inner knowledge

Of self

I felt I had no wealth.

If I had no answers to pour

To the kitchens of the needy

And poor

I became a bore

To include the mindless madness

Of the neighbors that pitied me

Only when I suffered at the lack of a penny.

They found I had many passions

Of which they were lacking

So push came to shove

And a jester I had become

To entertain the weary masses

Who I would beguile

Behind rose kissed glasses

A shade far too kind

For their lack of divine

Tasteless mercenaries

Tactful in remission

I began to beg for permission

A coercion built from

Lack of intuition.