de facto’s rote

could you travel half-way to reality
on the faith of a written word?

as the whim of others
attempts an unbroken dash
over ruts worn thin by
euphoria and remorse
the question always arises....
why would one want
to rescind and bide
a step away from apathy?

the incurious
clear the blue glow
of a full moon's right
with fog drenched vales
spiked with haunted fingers
of agitation

but I negate your bliss
please leave me torpid
monotoned
tween headlong and even
don't drag me down
to your rapturous twilight
that burns with a sacrilegious wick

lethed melancolie
is it's own reward
for a life blown hard
by the roar of chagrin