All the Marks Lining Up

The tongue is like an octopus
in how it can slither inside tiny spaces
lick the drumbeat of your ear
and cause mass carnage with its hissing

The devil never comes dressed in flames
nor adorned with a forked crown of horns
but is slicker than ice in the fine print
signing up for scales you weren’t aware of

How stoned are the goats
guarding your gates
letting through the wicked lies
a fluffed tail of smoke and vapor

I bet you bought the ruse
at a bargain basement discount
with promises of blue light specials
humming tricks between both spheres

Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration. He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects. Scott Thomas can be reached at You can also watch and/or subscribe to his YouTube Channel Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or visit Scott Thomas's website.