substances over substantiality has been for a time

the modus operandi; i draw and select of pentacles—queen,

i enter the sand battling barefooted, searching for my dark woman

 

there wigged women shuffle black sand toes

knees knifing, elbows bowed against

tautly turning bellies harnessing hope

 

mostly ignoring rhythmic knowledge, i am found

searching for men with dramatized eyes,

a black night fronds and silver stars aesthetic

 

i am found beneath a wig, a pretension, and a problem—

the people climb imaginary walls, wriggling for some eyes only, but

compliments from jeweled crown women lull ego to perception

 

the moths' wings drowned in urine and sweat

bland colored creatures struggle on blue plastic embossment

lest we slip and land on our backs pathetically writhing in tune

 

and too sand slips from the wide eyed feign’s lamenting hand

i spit small balls of mugwart leaf, blood purging out in retribution

still blinded by sandstorm beards & salt hips covered in patterns saccharine

 

kisses under cold wet sheets, colder cans, and steaming sweatback creatures

clamor from tent to stage, feral and feeling more and less than they'd bargained for

none of this is real anyway, the placement of beats absorbs our sins

 

back for more brew, last day, red cup offered to white lost lips

the five point celestial embodiment of purge, except and let go

the garment touting woman isn’t dark enough, yet one must serve as guide