Friday, November 11, 2011

Happy places and Bull Shit

He was safe; untouchable muse
a light, a dream, low lying fog
across a swamp
tendrils of Spanish moss hung
from trees
the air so heavy humid
the frogs in the muck
resounding melodies
echo in the moonlight.
Machetes.
Whistles.
An owl hooting breaks the cabaret
top hat dreams of toads in streams.
Battle time
Battle Toads.
Done apologizing.
If I will dance then I guess I'll dance
with ice in my veins
ripping, shredding, matriculating
Take a walk with me through hell
don't worry I'll hold your hand
When you get lost
the only way up is down
bodies lying prone on rocks
on fire
Demons flying
always laughing
never anything to say
forgotten the way
Domes of light above me
straight through the triangle and out again...
Mother ship
ET fucking phone home.
Rats chewing on bones in paper streets
Pulled away by powerful hands from the skies
all that is real
taken away.
I've got sucked in again
God damn it.
So hard to free myself
a curtain is pulled back
the road is open
I refuse.
Your party hat your dredge
Anger is honest
hate is genuine
Love is a kaleidoscope of missteps
and confusion.
A groove, a niche
a place to put me
till you've swallowed your needs.
When the cloud is lifted
you lie alone
clinging to a chewed off arm
wondering what the fuck went wrong.
Disaster.

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