ONE LAST POEM

We live just for standing
We fall just just for landing
Life's illusions are enchanting
We branch philosophy from religeon
in hopes to be forgiven
from lethargic indesicion
An ugly submission to a cultures superstition
We give ourselves permission
with an incision of attrition
Invision inhibition as a gateway to perdition
The contradiction of the fiction is the restriction of your diction
Salvation in prediction but living in affliction
Where does that leave us?
Fresh out of your teens
With both parents in graves
Boozing and drugging ourselves off of reality
Faith.
Not a bad idea
Just a bad lifestyle
Like communism
Wherever or whatever God is.
He makes more sense than the garbage we've come up with.