The sounds of the sea beseeched far set landlocked...
To bless the voice of demons in rapturous response...

It's easy to write a sad poem,
when your world is falling apart...

Bottles and cans litter my floor,
A path to my bed in liquored decour...

Demons play tricks on unwitting souls,
Weaving lies in the fabric of hope...

We haven't talked in 7 years,
I just wanted to check on you...

I am the Magician,
Performer of cheap tricks...

The dawn of the new day unfolds,
Beams of the Sun shine dutifully upon...

In the winds I here her call,
The change of Summer to Fall...

Disclamer; I am writting this on my phone
I sit in my little office...

The rich smell of blood and hot gun oil,
Like carbon ensuing from a rifle...

Im pretty sure Im happy,
That is depending on what happy is...

Its been so long sence I wrote a poem,
All these things that made me feel at home...