The Beatnik Cowboy

 
vortices of spiraling memories
disperse within the time tunnels
of his mind, echoing back to him
as if his heart were an empty cavern
stretching from hell to eternity
more of his life ahead of him than behind
He goes amongst the throng of humanity
unseen...
his youthful face and age make him invisible
alone and craving the fuel of cognizant exchange
the fire of spirited conversation
alone...
his mind bleeds with the need of the human touch,
youth intoxicatingly dynamic
a parade of thorn-winged emotion
which plagues it's tortured flight
the fusion of inhibitions newly freed
with a stream of loveless anonymity
perpetually hollow within the wanting
ablaze with desires soon flown...
Oh proud display this fallen cause!