Flight of the Blinded

Maybe the meetings of connection are skip worthy;
maybe the bills can be spared with the right kind of stingy;
maybe the couches and poor self cleansing will get me laid;
maybe the nights will be foolishly soaked;
maybe the music will demaster vinyl like;
maybe the two of us will feel actually free.
We will roar up the legend,
The gift to America,
The great West Coast.
A stretch full of the sort of mystery that only the bonded truly and fully deep within themselves seek.
Maybe the lines combined will be Burroughs y Kerouac
(except the drama);
maybe the cafes will open arms, ears, and food banks;
maybe the gallons will not stop providing;
maybe the fortress will be without need of hold out;
maybe the batteries will find charges naturally;
maybe this poem won’t come to fruition.

-jared a muscat