sourdough ender

castles in the sky steps that don’t materialize oo where’s this going? oh when does it end? it would be less disconcerting to be stabbed in the back by a friend. shiny and new polish old shoes til you see your haggard face staring back across the lake where the pulse of the green light beckons you always so far away it’s a living thing this greed that feeds on the hearts of men some keep it under lock and key sealed in a jar, away from the scent of risen glory, of endless bounty borrowed valor, stolen praise but it tends to find its way to jail break, crawl along the baseboards slide into the oven, where it grows and grows until its unrecognizable as the man we know. oo where’s this going? oh, when does it end? it should be more concerning when devils ride shotgun in the warm light of the sun. brush out the knot at the back of the head til the hair falls straight and flat when a fine toothed comb runs effortlessly through without a single snag. always so far away til it rips at the scalp again.