The Long Goodnight

if only there was a way to wash your memory beat it against stones (perform my own lobotomy... ...interrupt the fibers of response) remove the cynical tarnish tongue that waits (breathing- taunting) a cannula, manipulating the phone that speaks your lies long is this equation tied together, like railroad tracks running together concurrently; pushing, pushing, pushing… …forward without reprieve, valleys that wind down stopping through thoughts-- displaying anguish from a looking glass. I have lived in the freshness of spilled water tracing from the grey skies… …can one derail this train fling it from the trussle, as if skipping you like a rock from a grenade bandaged hand you once called truth. instead this two sided coin has been flipped, smashing the wounds forcing splinters under nails if you smiled; the force would shatter that damn brazen smirk, there is far more safety in the grips of the hooded executioner who shares your conscious blank stare. driving a stake through your chastised breast, only to find a sepulcher where the heart was never placed. (clinging to existence a parasite) feeding, feeding, feeding without penalty; --you cannot feel --you cannot bleed --you cannot rob me