All These Terrors
ALL these terrors / like stabbing my throat.
Within all seasons of years of all my life.
These quiet and unnoticed deaths...
Burying me within tons of fear and guilt.
Will you be a friend to a lost soul?
Or hide behind your face?
NOW say, are you polluted by overloaded
Sensory and information like a dysfunctional
Lover holding devices made by twisted
Geniuses? I'm a butterfly with a glass of
Merlot and purple is my heart by bruise
And deep disappointment.
My heart is another thing: sweet engine
Of abstract lips and words and paint
A soul machine of flesh and bone walking
Alone on a rock speeding throughout
The cold universe.
So suffer we do as all are mostly
Adults as dead children and all these
Terrors like stabbing my throat
Within all these seasons of years
Of all my life; so sing, so sing,
So sing and say: my heart is right
And too many sleeping so deep they
Shall never awaken!
:: 11-08-2017 ::
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