Age

What struck of consolations
Have been the prominent psychedelics
Of pile flaming pour-outs
And guilt-gurgles, conceived?

Long periods of its stillness
Grits over the white aching teeth
Hardly enough, I'd pull out,
Thudding asphyxiations beneath. 

I hate the distasting prejudice
Like a metal tasted tongue
Hawking over me like an eagle
As if blood drips over my sullen hands.

Clowns stated metamorphosis
Are covers of yellow colored cellophane.
Then existential reasoned-spite
Could be my company.