Oh! that I might expel it,
This nastiness, this mad foofaraw –
(A little pig’s house of straw)
Might you count each sun
That comes falling down
As I twist and turn, spit and spew
And beg a little more of even you?

(Maybe just………
A long, drawn out exhale)

Or would you fail to notice [look away],
Should it suddenly spill out
In front of you someday –
To land, fat and black
and screeching,
At your feet?

Now complete,
An utter atrocity,
Stuffed so full of another-world’s reality
That it leaks unattractively from its pores.
[And still it begs for more!]

(Would you lay down with it
If I asked you to?)

A couple of pills,
A bit of Daddy’s glue,
Segmentation born of blue -
All pasted together
To wallow alone, within
Straw walls reinforced with bone
On the other side of a desperate moon
Here in the night, here in my room.

And what of this wickedness,
That refuses its name –
Would you cast it aside
Redirecting the blame
To some errant corner of the universe
Where galaxies collide
Into one another… or worse,
Into themselves?

Oh, hell –
Maybe its just as well
That I simply shut my mouth
[for brick and wood seem stronger, no doubt]
And hold the beast in
As the sun sets itself to rise
Again, again.


~


Ah, but…
I wouldn’t get to play with them if
I… did…

that.







Copyright © Silent-No-More ... [ 2007-01-18 00:02:56]
(Date/Time posted on site)