Page 73 - Contrast2012

Eyes flitting, REM flashing strobe lights, filling vast distances inside my

head,

And always driving, but now there are flames licking my heels,

A dead end, steel incense, my shrapnel candle burning,

Car totaled, the airbag's eerie pillow,

Softly taming my, lucid transcendence,

Sundown,

I'm choking, chockfull, chalk full, dust, ashes, nothing

And I'm lying on a rusted mattress, a crunched can, tingeing,

And I hear voices, cries, screams, howls,

To the beast Ishout

"Why are you mad?"

And the answer is the om of knitted heartbeats hammering the log off

balance,

The muted shuffies of a gypsy king's laced shoes and a muffied flame

where the desert animals once partied,

A memory of where wandering' containers had been before,

Like when Ilanded on the moon and knew Iwasn't lost if! wasn't look

ing for anything,

We're dressed in old clothes,

Dressed in the folds of time

Lying at the feet of a scarecrow in a cornfield abandoned long ago,

A bed of Martian sand under the misaligned sky's horizon,

No answer, .J

And now the scarecrow is mourning for its stolen goods as it smolders

in a field of flames,

Searching for what it lost, a puppet dressed in old clothes,

Looked like a wax chandelier rippling in heat, dripping blood from the

sky as it burned into oblivion.

Entertaining the demon, my ears have turned gray,

They disintegrate to ash in the fire,

As flesh flakes, I've become tangled between points

Like a festering swarm of flies drawn to the spilled honey that had

pooled on knocked wood,

But it least Iauthor my own disaster,

Past, like a long loop retraced from the brain,

And it was all singed, burnt, and as black as rubble,

An old shell, cast aside,

We're melting, fusing together,

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