THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Certain]

Library drifter. Big steps. Avoiding the dead men.
We've broken barriers, but all this consorting upsets friends.
Lothario of Army Road, determined to court 'til the bed dents.
Inflicting irreverance, weed smoke lifting my testaments;
be even a little bit hesitant and belittle the entire experiment.
Cigarettes, coffee, incredulous: Cliché kids destined for worse
than their picturesque parents had. Depressing at first,
but through limited scope, broken rhythms fitting the poems
never quite swell up to the ideal equalibrium dose.
This is the sinner's repose: barrel chest, bloodshot eyes,
broken confidence. An open monument to cold despondence.
Carelessness. The plot dies. The story ends. The pages turn.
The stage is set for the grand monologue. So wait and learn.
Wages earned are wages spent. Day by day, we slave for rent,
but cages break and craves are left unfulfilled in graceless death.