Slide back into that fat stack of cushioned reality and thought.
All the things you bought thinking that alone was what you sought,
when material advances tend to mean very little,
not a lot.
To think those objects can make you what you crave,
when on the shallow side of hell it's the presage of your grave.
*
Mindless crating magnificent,
fluent substitute in the art of missing it.
Small fry grasping for the havoc,
mayhem misread tangent.
Keep keeping on the river that's been stagnant,
and you can convince yourself high worth upon this planet.
*
I walked into the room dripping in silver,
liquid movement to the motion picture sliver,
quivering in your pantyhose to take the mold of the viable.
Twisting torment dripping of the lips that you kept kissing,
sickness emitting it's sordid poison on the living.
Feet slipping into a pool of your own sweat,
from all those times in bed,
the kids who threw empty plastic bottles at your head,
nights filled with self hate and incoherent feelings,
swigs from the jug and pill junkie dealings,
broken home issues,
and fans humming from the ceilings.
It turned from a shit show to a disco, in less than ten minutes.
The attitude check and alcohol breath controlled with a spinet,
add a digital delay to help the hips swing with it.
Dig it, you like it or you don't,
in the end it's either an attack or a joke,
the real thing or a hoax.
Propose to laugh or die before being coaxed,
to expand on your smile for a moment with a slight vocal episode.
How long will it be before the ruins of the free are discovered by the beings that encounter us in our dreams?
Left behind is tarnished gold, broken seams, slight gleam from the sun that fed the trees.
If there's torment in your soul, will you torment to feel whole?
Or will you flounder in your misery then pile up the coal to exterminate the body that ruined your soul?
*
My brain is dying slowly.
