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Sometimes I feel I'm going sane,
subterranean.
I am adequately bermed
like indolent endomorphs
by my own pleasure-less leisure—
it can't hurt if it doesn't hit
though few would thank me
for the taint of my endorsement
(best is not always most pleasant).
Celebrations of correlation and conformity
interrupt the unexpected hunt for charlatans—
conspiracy of the arbiters.
Even the insipid need insulin—
goodnight, sweet prints.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.