Thursday, June 10, 2010


I type this trying to alleviate

to elevate

above this separated state of fate

at any rate I cannot obliterate nor does it help to hate

this distance, repeated instance

So let me illustrate that if I could

that if I could

that if I could

I would see the sign

no, that all is not fine

cuz it does matter to the mind

like a mad prophet losing profit to the wages of sin

a blunt needle going in

mauling through crawling skin

life pulls the pin then stands there reloading

watching you explode then imploding

tattered word remnants splattering this emoting

this steaming bloating brooding ode to lost time

whispered while screaming yet spoken like a rhyme

the rhythm ripping, reaming

do not count me sublime