No Fields of Glory

June 23

There are no fields of glory where I am bound
to the desert in my mind where nothing
grows not even underground
I find myself alone there
sometimes in the still
of night with an
anxiety attack
I leap back
trying to
from entering
the abyss of oblivion
how strange my dreams
are as of late; riding through
the NYC subway with no pants on
but how strange to dream at all so I
shan’t complain come what might tonight
even riding on the back of the night mare to
parts unknown beyond our galaxy in a world apart
from anything we have ever known or dreamt of home
I think I’m flying upside down and backwards round some
distant moon while singing out of tune in the bloody month of June,
or I wouldn’t swear that it’s not July but that word doesn’t rhyme nice try…

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