“Turret’s Syndrome” by Scott Sparks

The faces who walk in front of me
With slower paces to signify superiority, apparently
I can barely fathom how they’ve assimilated
Time is its own phantom of which no one’s delegated
I can’t tell the difference—though I’m not involved
From each one’s insignificance—though I’m not involved
Than expect those in debt to ensure you with their rations
On my guard though this shield gets heavy
Waiting at the rendezvous point and all the way ready
Keeping my peace within a scarred land of disease
In my heart I speak while down on my knees
There’s a she that’ll always be kept in frame
One day I pray that she’ll have a name
Far and away from once exigent battlements
But my plans are only tentative until I see my way out of this


—Scott Sparks

About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
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