Morally derailed,
I make believe
that soul is just a name
for what the body
used to be
shit out of geist,
I stop the bucks
from rolling
no more begging
for fucks,
or cajoling
instead I revel
deep inside, decide
that trolls and butterflies
are what we come to be
in due and proper course
as long as we refrain
from caring for things trite
as they are transient
and swiftly passing
each and every
tear of white
that falls down
on your face
I will regard
as an anthem
from your spirit lyre
no more, no less
than arrows, tokens
of desire