There is no beauty in me

There is no beauty in me

Every thought carved

Out of a bloodless slab

Of petrified soul

Each word a brutal slap

In the face of the divine

There is the devil

Of a fight for survival

The right to exist

Is no given

My spirit though not conquered

No longer flies

Hobbled and tethered

Grounded for want of

Clean air

What gods are these

As disappear into a

Dysphoria

Of severed imaginings

Never do they sing

Without recourse

To the burn of alcohol

The sting of bitter remorse

Is always waiting

For the stutter of an illiterate

The gabble of words

Too easily grasped

A foul belch of cliched

Phrases dripping

From a pitying mouth

Drool is a strangely

Exotic word

For hyperactive

Salivary glands

When the truth

Is far less glamorous

Would that I could be lifted higher

But the weight

Of my indifferent perspective

Is far too heavy

A burden to carry

A simple rhyme

This time.