Bar stool

I have labored too long hours, for a cold blooded dollar

Lived one intention’s forever, on love’s sacrificial alter

Now here I sit, on a toadstool in the corner of a bar

Shocked at the expense for commandeering survival

I’d pay more, or steal myself back again, if I need be

To place myself triumphantly, on this meager pedestal

Pretending I’m on a flower petal, or small nook in a tree

Watching violet clouds, wishing for amethyst raindrops

With the day falling sun, turning sudden puddles amber

Golden mud holes, to escape my psilocybin, frog throne


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