Wastrel’s Words

what are words but sound decaying
how absurd, how profound, what are we saying
taken out of context, texting and perfecting
neglecting the reflection that glares from the surface
echoes etch away
sonically eroding the deepened valley
ricocheted dialogues
chip away our chipper ways
ardently absorbing infinite arrangements
yet flippantly forgoing featured subtext
utterance unfolding, unsurpassable
through the window of our mind
plausibly presuming, grooming narratives inside
to hide the looming paradox to which we’re all confined
adjectives synonymous to every known truth await
to be conveyed and captured
kept inside or pushed away
knowing these narratives which speak our only voice
detailing every moment
logging long, the loss of day
the thoughts that ground our consciousness
subconsciously displayed
will grant us not the notion, nor the knowing what to say
connected disconnection in impressions that we make
subjectively surround the severed sounds that fall prostrate
the function of our wallowing
the cognitive cascade of chemical biology
systemic in its ways
like frozen fractals falling soon to melt and dissipate
to sate the seeds we sow and grow
the garden of our fate


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