Roaring lions and evening wolves;

Try not talking back, but don’t be selfish
I don’t know shit about the twelve steps;
but I can teach you everything not to do next
all you have to do is change your mind
habitually refined within new signs
let the venom spill, get your fill–
self-inflicted sanity soothed
in turning  tabloid tonics
“so glad I’m not smoking,”
but I’ll still hit the chronic
I’ve grown tired of the thrills
getting Divine chills;
there’s only so much you can do
at a goddamn time; it’s excessive
staying hypnotized to the true self
kept hidden on the last shelf
but blessed to have a new day
or further opportunity to escape
from roaring lions and evening wolves
that howl and pray, forever astray in
a spatial perception created to inflame
life is your own, still a dream to define
take shape or stay mellow and
formlessly thrive;
within your own jaded designs
we release to unwind, begin already behind
the past uncloaked through initiatory signs
following the stars of your Eyes–
your weary book of spells so dealt
with unconscious casts, acts left unfelt
different from so much simpler times
cerebral in Reprise, “she always lies…”
still cycling through these rhythmic lines

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