But if the prose can’t catch up

it’s all up to the verse

which will inspire

in Biblical proportions

like a flood

or tornado

removing homes from Kansas

to a prison called Oz

and that’s just the early shot

in rise of disillusionment

at the absolute failure

to live up to the legend

that I created and scripted

in my very own mind.

Indeed, I become my albatross

as I wallow in past poetics

of a long bygone century

that still resonates with unnerving beauty

and it would be something to behold

but maybe not from their perspective

It might not have been so bleak

but for life as a government clerk

and feeling rather useless

Idiocy in a nutshell

in this existential satori

which sheds old light on a new subject

seems like I hold less choice

than even I reckoned before          


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