With sheepish reservation
approaching faith with hesitation
I send this flaccid invocation
to a god i think is on vacation
to repair my cracked foundation
and reschedule my dream cancellation

With pathetic resignation,
my natural gravitation
toward shadowy flirtation
distracts me from my own stagnation…

self-induced complications
settling for superficial sensations –
self medication
causing frightening palpitations
and quickly fleeting jubilation
and a loss of concentration
and manic masturbation

I’m just looking for a good vibration
Instead, I am a new mutation
so far from my original station
unfazed by my own damnation
I suffer, in this separation,
of hunger and of dehydration.
Save me from my reputation
Give me life and elevation.
I want non-toxic levitation

With such shallow aspirations
can i live in moderation?

I’ll settle even for the
mere scent of inspiration.
Until then shall I resume
my pending detonation?
My holy desecration
and soul suffocation,
Stumbling in my isolation?

Disconnected from all
blood relations
an orphan by causation
I resent the implication.
though I admit the connotation.

Yet really, this is all just speculation.
Am I a product of my generation
Are my demons just figments
of an overactive imagination?
Or am I seriously inflicted
with emotional retardation?