I dreamt of widows killing men of honor
A lucky mistake taking you for a ride through my abandoned lair that died from hunger
Keep telling me your fears
I’m a psychological musician bathing in the waters with an unknown muse
The desert prince of barren lands wishes to acquire your services.
I see four women
A quartet of devastation
Harpies in pantsuits cradling sniper rifles like silent babies with a killer cry
The widows declined my invitation in supreme fashion
Outclassed and cloaked in a shroud of my own uncertainty I retired to a grave buried under foolish ambitions.
Passion is what the widows seek
A blacked out lie flying towards the finish line can never be truth
Follow them for a pilgrimage of enlightenment
Fear them for they have seen what their men have not
A future.
© 2017 Randle Allshouse Jr.
