Looks familiar

The slow burn,
the
medicine man and
the travelling show.

We light a taper to escape
from the onset of night,
but
the chills of the night
delight me.

The doctor turns in
to the potion he brews
and
becomes vapour that
escapes earthly prisons,

persons of interest they’ll tell you
enemies of the people they’ll say
and
what say you?
say you the brew?
say you escape into the ether
what then?
the unreal?
the slow burn?
to
turn again
repeat?

I want to sleep with the oceans
make out with the tides
ride on wild horses,

I dream of eyes that
mystify me
I dream of scars
far away,
I dream of canyons and
vultures
I dream
that we pray.

We always return to
the slow burn.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.