There is an allure to the disordered life,

The purveyor has a spirit and a charm

That would captivate the loser that’s in all of us

So the fear of death and dying to disarm.

Yes, they’ve given our illusion to the shadows

Our control or inclination there to black

And they’re living in a kind of freedom finding

As they do not see the future or look back.

Theirs is all one canvas blended through with colors

With no image but the sight that each would see

When he looks into the chasm of the unknown chaos

And sees looking back the likes of you and me.

2012.04.03.0800 ©