Bon Voyage

Another misty morning of misgivings has been met
by the midnight-winged menagerie that hasn’t left just yet
for every dawn they migrate to the river down below
like vultures at the murky Styx, in search of those too slow.

This gargoyle squats upon my brow, its shadow like a veil
that hinders therapeutic light routinely, without fail
my data are confounded with agendas and conceit
which tends to skew the plot in convolutions of deceit.

The firmness of my grasp is often open to debate
undistorted views have been infrequent as of late
perhaps it’s time to ride the current, blissfully serene
while all those blaring buzzards pick my weary carcass clean.