Gypsy Lady Probe

The gypsy lady wanted to skip the fugitive timelines
Of my physical self
Like naked rocks skipping across the atmosphere
Of Heaven
For my future was flawed
And I was too lazy and impatient
With self
To do anything about my rehab reality
And I could only blame
Society so many times
Before I have no choice
But to blame
The multitude of personas and personalities
Of ragged doll me
As she gazed
directly into the song of my soul
The executioner’s song
of nine months in the womb
Yet still premature
infant me
As she closed her human eyes
And opened up wormholes
Within the wind
In hopes of discovering
What made me tick
Like the voices that go
Tick, tick, tick, tick
Within the heads and brain scans
Of socially polite deadbeats
Who still patrol coffee houses
World wide in search
Of dysfunctional souls
That are tired, burned out, and
BEAT
And I wish I could count myself
Among them
As I question
Out loud
Why I so eagerly embrace
All things related to the seven deadly sins
Then I realize that
“sin” exist within
every particle
of me
as the gypsy lady
screams
as she finally finds the
cocoon of souls
that holds
the ashes of god
and resurrects him
only to find out
that he never
meant to create
the anomaly of time and space
that is me
so, then like before
I simply prayed
And ceased to be