Peyote Dreams

Somewhere in the desert a hard nosed poet is bleeding 

As daylight is receding as night begins to form,

You hear coyotes howl’n on this desert floor. 

 I become as time, tired of myself passing through 

Another day of peyote dreams tinting poems with

The Surrealistic leans.

Tired of the madness of living these dreary days

Infested with anxiety, infectious with insanity.

Life with no oasis any more, no open doors or upscale

Whores.

If you will remember me my friend, I will visit you

Within peyote dreams, from eternities furthest westward 

horizon.  TomSkirtic 2/13/18