3 am

So stupid, so naïve.
I wanted to believe
a happy family would
heal, not leave me bleeding.
Random spit out imagery subliminally
provides my every need, keeps me enslaved.
Psychic wounds deeply fused inside
my neural frame.
Oh, yeah, excuses for poor motivation,
a whole damned ocean uncried. 
Cancerous confusion grown in lies.
Inane ravings
of self-obsessed dispossessed.
Once brave warrior
worn-down, unfit for service.
’cause nobody wants ya
when yer down and out.
Say it with me,
old hillbilly harmonica refrain.
Gulping jug wine on a rambling train,
escape to vague places beyond.
To hoped for gold, or rain,
love entwined warm bodies in
wild night air.
Any salve against
abrasive lazy pace of despair.
Precious spirit of nocturnal seekers
catches, charms my restless dreams.
Curled up in her wise arms for succor,
I pray for sleep.
.
.
.
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