Karmic Cement
The sky hounds are tracking me down.
In the cul-de-sac of social anxiety drive...
Despite covering my tracks in a hot, peppered wind...
Sticking the heart into a bowl of burning dice.
(to cover the scent of predictability).
They've arrived. To bore their way back into the core.
Pick the scab off every weakness.
Exposing every soul blemish,
(that crippling, iron face of shyness).
That's chased me through the back alleys of life.
The sky hounds have cornered me again.
waving stingers -coming down hard
like an anvil in the night
getting off on the vibe of
my twitching mind.
Years later I'd half-mastered.
All those black lessons from the past
Kneaded my heart into a quasi-flower.
Dipped the petals in a whorl of lime.
Attracting that swarm of hollow iciness.
Then laughed as their stingers snapped.
When the wet cement of karma had crapped in their minds.
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