Robert Morpheal
2013-02-21 01:42:24 UTC
200213A
------------
More of the ugly surprises
that defy your last optimism,
making it vulnerable
to the multiple stab wounds
of a sharpened perception.
Something dies every day,
murdered by your repeated failure
to achieve total disbelief.
Another sales pitch impaled you,
on a wooden stake.
You hang there
in that surreal Golgotha,
listening to the amplified sounds
of sucking wounds,
with your raw heart exposed.
You watch angels feasting
on raw flesh,
gnawing on bones.
They lick droplets of blood
from your exposed skin.
------------------------------
200213B
-----------
It is as if you can see forever
from on top of the rubbish heap.
The scavengers having picked it over,
left nothing particularly precious.
In the puddles and the muck,
you can see pieces of people’s stories,
each at various stages of decomposition
into the same unimportance.
There is little difference to be found
between mud and brains.
Two different types of clay,
molded into effigies and idols.
You cannot see that sort of desolation
if you really are someone.
The less important you are to anyone
the more readily you blend in to the mud.
A billion years of evolution,
can be wiped out in the blink of an eye,
watching your constituent elements
melt invisibly into the landscape.
Empty tin cans, the hollow remains
of abandoned beliefs.
The shells corrode slowly,
and are eventually crushed.
You thought there was something in it,
but when you opened it, it was gone.
The spirits haunting the wind
make you vomit violently.
Standing on the rotting corpse
of a dead god, you weaken.
Everything is falling apart.
Birds tearing at that sodden bread.
The crust of skin peels away,
exposing bits of soft flesh.
Tallow gathers into pools
of flickering candle wicked history
Parts of your body are mingled
the way ripe grapes are pressed,
mixing blood and earth,
from which come monstrous things..
Dark wings brush against your face,
and you want to imagine they are kisses,
until the stabbing pain in your groin
becomes a new form of orgasm.
---------------------------------------
------------
More of the ugly surprises
that defy your last optimism,
making it vulnerable
to the multiple stab wounds
of a sharpened perception.
Something dies every day,
murdered by your repeated failure
to achieve total disbelief.
Another sales pitch impaled you,
on a wooden stake.
You hang there
in that surreal Golgotha,
listening to the amplified sounds
of sucking wounds,
with your raw heart exposed.
You watch angels feasting
on raw flesh,
gnawing on bones.
They lick droplets of blood
from your exposed skin.
------------------------------
200213B
-----------
It is as if you can see forever
from on top of the rubbish heap.
The scavengers having picked it over,
left nothing particularly precious.
In the puddles and the muck,
you can see pieces of people’s stories,
each at various stages of decomposition
into the same unimportance.
There is little difference to be found
between mud and brains.
Two different types of clay,
molded into effigies and idols.
You cannot see that sort of desolation
if you really are someone.
The less important you are to anyone
the more readily you blend in to the mud.
A billion years of evolution,
can be wiped out in the blink of an eye,
watching your constituent elements
melt invisibly into the landscape.
Empty tin cans, the hollow remains
of abandoned beliefs.
The shells corrode slowly,
and are eventually crushed.
You thought there was something in it,
but when you opened it, it was gone.
The spirits haunting the wind
make you vomit violently.
Standing on the rotting corpse
of a dead god, you weaken.
Everything is falling apart.
Birds tearing at that sodden bread.
The crust of skin peels away,
exposing bits of soft flesh.
Tallow gathers into pools
of flickering candle wicked history
Parts of your body are mingled
the way ripe grapes are pressed,
mixing blood and earth,
from which come monstrous things..
Dark wings brush against your face,
and you want to imagine they are kisses,
until the stabbing pain in your groin
becomes a new form of orgasm.
---------------------------------------