Parading around in a pathos cardigan..
Stirring fumbling memories..rummaging
The minds somehow contemptuous of remaining still..
Tea leaves in the cups nether regions
Destiny's detritus,fates flotsam jettisoned quite clearly of the breaking bow
Sad,even sick, tendancies and idiotic aspirations..
"Nonsense.." mom offers..
"he'll grow out of this sordid little trance..worn like an impotent robe.."
Like a wreath..like rain
Vital has the salty taste of despondance settled into the tongue.
..wagged hotly at indifferent princesses,sweaty feral fiend..
skirts all a'flutter.
"It's a living", salivated..cooed at the masses..
Delivering baudy whimsy with a rucksack fulla bullshit.
"Get with your God son..That'll save ya.."
The head lowers mechanically
the voice dies to a hush..