The man of many names
sold his soul for stones,
To find and tame the harlots fame
and mine his golden bones.
The great infected; magnetic minds,
retract in circuit lights.
While his rejected lines, in anxious binds
seek to tie his world up tight.
He chose to fight, with burdened breath,
the clicking bright device.
Who’s gravity can move the sea
but cant stop the rolling dice.
For inside constructed weathered woes
there lies a different sort of pain.
And the dusty soul, reluctant though,
still trickles down the drain.
From there he finds that space & time
are connected deeper still.
and when left alone, his golden bones
break his his mind at will.
October 3rd, 2015