Poetry from Santiago Burdon

Two Dollar Talisman

I have never professed to know much, although what I do know,

is there’s a distance between want and need, the road is plagued with storms, the rain in time causes your ambition to rust,  your ego begins to bleed, your hunger doesn’t entitle you admission, to take part in the soul feast, you, still believing no one’s pain is greater than your own, convinced you’ve paid your dues, fate now owes you, but you’ve defaulted on the loan.

Your want is always a demand, to please an image reflected in a selfish mirror,  you’re damned to keep counting blessings, coming up short, then feeling cheated, out of what was never yours. And you ask why your prayers go unanswered, your self indulgent wishes are ignored, worshiping the two dollar Talisman, bought at the thrift store, it has exhausted any cosmic goodwill  it never had  before, turns out  to be just another poor choice, as a last resort. if a line between  right and wrong ever existed, you snorted it long ago, and a conscience you considered an encumbrance, was shedd in liability’s shadow.

I’ve lived in life’s underbelly, a deplorable existence, the reward for addiction and a troubled mind, been to places where God wouldn’t go, acting on a drug’s bad advice, I’ve learned the less I wanted, the more I understood what it is I need, it rains diamonds on Neptune, and there’s blue sunsets on Mars, but what do I know,

I’m just an imitation of me.

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