… And Then Their Hope



Written about an aloof, yet charming & talented estranged friend (he lived in a veiled bubble) No, judgement, I understand. RIP Charlie. Still, I was angry that he gave up or perhaps unintentionally his gluttonous numbing secret vice snuffed an unusual beautiful mind. Flawed. Aren't we all--.



… And Then Their Hope

Written by JT SANZ



Veined gasped ticked air,

Some hope—the dope cloak

Prep… while you belt, wring skin,

Puncture more spillage of hatred.


Back-in. Tainted,

Rushed venous cooked acquaintance

Your acute sense of eviction? ‘stop!’

No just.

A blissful ruse, ‘my dear muse’.


Auras of murky grudge.


The evening:


No plight, thus kite evolves.


In life afraid to fight,

‘Was it distilled cavalier?’

The decoy elixir,

A pacified suckled pleasure

or bore musing glaring terror?


On the other realm

Another traced concocted leer,

Devolves your shiny tipped vessel,

To tremor?


Another imp night,

Abused flagrant kicker!

Evoked a karma sprite.


The one ignites omission.

You are its invite.


Relinquish temple.

Tensile devise.


Who’s to say what’s officious…

Your paradise puppeteer

or tracked incision?


The morning:

Effected- Tormented-Ejected!

You know of the day,

The latter you borrow.

Tomorrow you jest…

Distain is your fest…

The guest is your pest…


Now rest with your mess!



‘Deity habits?’

We all claim to have it—

A euphoric parody


Obtuse reflective joust:

A pull—

A lift—

Life’s pulp?

Wrongful diction predict.


Timed fix!


Acute sense of energy:

it’s you and bouts

A trumped thrown dice silencer light.


‘And their faith?’


A falsetto hit shrine,

No different from yours,

and someday mine.


Where’s thus hope?

Your haste excuse

Grind pedigree.

Your looming wrangled evanescent—

Left, self-inflicted pierced angles.

Compulsive pursuit, a buoyant penalty


Come what may…


On its vine,

It lies subside.




Rip venous,

Fault line.



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