The ritual begins
A cigarette and
coffee cup breakfast
Old faithful ashtray
Always there
Waiting to consume
The disposable musings
Of a mind tethered.
Musicians sing
As the battle brings
More coffee
For the wasted mind.
Fingers poised.
A page blank pausing
Taunting
Teasing
Fingers itching,
The mental glitch
All consuming.
The muse is fading
Callously forsaking
That first sweet kiss
The lovers bliss
Bodies wet and writhing.
The beauty seen
The dreams once dreamed
In a world now cold and dying.
Ghosts of thought recoil
Secrete the lexis of ages
As the sun emerges
From her eternal sleep.
The ritual begins.
Compulsion
Yhe poet’s plight.
Reah Roberts ©2013
Tales From Behind A Cushion 