pent and pants up

tired and dazed

its a desert inn

hot porches

and memories

stranged repetitive

and universal

as if the background was never lived

except by you

who cant be trusted

  

soiled from travel
to the burdened for lack of a room
a glutton for experience
he sat in quiet

hands down legs crossed
a mantid praying

with fans for the cheeks vain
waiting for signal
while shine dimmed and wandered
for a spring warm

in his guard den
away from the rain