The day my muse fell off

The face of the earth…

Should I drown in the reminiscence

Of cigarettes and otherworldly

Brain structures?

…

Poetry to tarnish the soul and

Eat the flesh…

I would speak of nonexistence

But Eli isn’t afraid of death.

….

Or maybe I’ll remorse the fact

That we’re all just dangling from

These threads of tangled words

And crystal Meth.

….

But, isn’t it obnoxious how

Religion is the God of our lives

Even though we’re all struggling through

Thoughts of Atheism?

Money spent on poetry

Built off the crooked anguish of

Poverty, torment and racism?

….

The day my muse fell off

The face of the earth…

I plunged myself into

Another galaxy and simply

Evaporated.