A Much Delayed Stream of Consciousness.
A solid dream
I wish never became real to me
The inner apocalypse I ignore,
The mad madness of every madman that ever was mad,
Bottled inside of my throat,
Plays with the cords of my voice
A sad tune,
An evil smile
The irony is so spectacular…
The betrayal so profound
Sends shockwaves of hatred up into my brain,
Brought down by slow torture of gravity,
And into the shallow shores of my conscience
Ah, the betrayal…
The convulsions throw me
With the memory of every gift I ever gave.
And every word I’ve ever said
Rape my unabashed vow to never regret
Touch me, look…
Look! Where are the scars?
Where are they, the deepest wounds, and the horrendous gashes?
Hidden behind the placidity…perhaps
Taking sanctuary beneath the smile…
The pain, blessed with the gills to breathe in the abysmal pools
Of the darkness of my eyes…
So that it will remain there,
Breathe there, thrive there,
And I’ll let a star in sometimes…
I’ll let the star in to twinkle off the surface
I’ll make the pools reflect and shine and glow,
And you’ll think me happy
Perhaps never seeing the monstrous deformity
That lingers on, dwelling in the deep
Perhaps you’ll never see me again,
Only observe the weak projections
It will get better
Better it will get
Get better it will
Will it get better?
You will regret it
Regret it you will
Will you regret it?
I think so
Tragedy, Tragedy, Tragedy
Mumbles Shakespeare in his sleep,
His peaceful sleep, an arm around his mistress
“The Horror The Horror”
Kurtz in the jungle…Kurtz in the bed,
Kurtz making his way to Hell
And his Intended floats in an infinite maze
Whilst Conrad sharpens his pencil to bleed some more…
Why don’t we all bleed some more of our lives, mop it up on paper,
Sell it to the world
I hope it was worth it…the hypocrisy and the lies…
The glass promises thrown down the stairs and the shards shoved into a closet…
I hope it was all worth it,
I hope it was worth the breaking of our friendship…I hope it was worth sending it to Hell.
And I hope it was worth the shattering of red vitality,
I can’t even look at you,
I hope it was worth that too
Funny…it was easier when the wound was fresh
But… every divine being must have looked down upon me and frowned
When I began to miss the knife that bled me.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
edited: October 29, 2012