Looted by vulture eyes…

He suffers many a tailspin

Lying in the grayness

Between dense black misgivings

and stark white conviction

There’s no suppressing

the power he feels

with that amulet of authority

tied to his being

It fills the holes

left by his bullets

Hears his subconscious –

how it crawls…in silence

into his drunken stupor

becoming what defines his stasis…

the charades of suffering!

She walked with poise

brimming full of innocence

until his vulture eyes

became ravenous

to imprison her gait

to detain both ‘She’ and ‘her spotlessness’

from aimlessly strolling

the alleyways of youth.

His hypocrisy –

oppressive and two sided –

perhaps never applies the brakes

to confine his wanderings

For every innocent

passing his vehicle of age

is cursed into decries of fakes

This is the exhilaration

that he so enjoys

in rides of self-indulgence,

away from the boulders of guilt!