There are no soldiers
In your army of shadows
Cowards all
they hide in dark corners
Nothing but notions
just rank and file figments
Fucked of emotions
and void of all pigments

Phantoms as whispers
and facts you can’t prove
Jump off the pages
as triggers are pulled
Lost in delusions
and the grandeur of you
A cup of contentment
that’s always half full

With a plagerist lust
you steal some ideas
Brainless you count
on vain words as balloons
Shouting out nonsense
that nobody hears
Manic depressive
you bark at the moon

While the battle continues
you feed on the dead
Hunger as windows
you never see-through
Alone on your phone
nothing moves in your head
Except for the shadow
you’re turning into

Needy as flypaper breeding neglect
Follows stick mindless
and know you’re a liar
Shadows are useless
they never protect
Minds that are fractured
are falsely inspired

Keeps you in trenches
So fearful
Depleted
Fighting with vanity
Flatlined
Retreating
Back to your corner
with no legs to stand on
Waiting for praises
from friends you’ve
abandoned

Desperate you’re drawing
deadlines in your arms
As war rages backward
by razors are born
You cross them again
as your shadows advance
Appearing as comfort
they’re cut, never torn

But where there is pain
there is life so they say?
Dark expectations
march through your mind’s eye
Whitewashed and polished
as ghosts of fine porcelain
Cracking and worthless
Haunting suspicions

Soldiers of fortune
or spirits of mischief
Memories hidden
in clay pot realities
Shadows do battle
while answers prove useless
Questions abound
when the mind is a mystery

Broken dream vessels
Scattered gray bodies
Prisoners of conscience
escape now and then
To give us rare glimpses
Of namesakes you envy
The life you deny
while you lie with your pen

TM DiSarro

©2021 TM DiSarro / MindScapes Publishing

New Book Available:  getbook.at/thebushman

Photo Collage by TMD