Hear-Hear

Sailed & at the helm I lose my walk, 
werewolvesque atrocious demons stalk
Means of the world, makes no sense at all, 
muckamuck the grey strands do mock. 
Marauds an uncouthly past, 
dark its clan of colors & nights - loud 
The accordion bleeds a waft, 
a sane sings out aloud..bow bastard & I’ll applaud! 

If ever a myth could talk, cross my legs, sit. 
I’ld pay to see a shaman’s altruist a vision..

The nefarious, ghosts & a world of having lived, 
Let them build, stitch to rip, unearth life’s mystique.. 
'On the gliding through breeze, 
ataraxy breached by evil intentions, 
The veneer of joy.. 
& of being a peccant in midst of celebrations. 
Scares & creeps their existence; only if they could reason.
Does it pain- the angst or in joy they croon;
or could their heart ever like before weep?'

(A dead man's unfilled wishes are just devoice.)