The Reunion From 1996 Into 2016

Sit there, backs turned, Eyes Wired Shut, disconnected from your gut. Thrusting back and thirsting forth, comes in the night. Sniffing sleeping walking, head throbbing, bowels moving To the rhythm of your heart pumping. Silent mourning, red hot night but it’s not the knight that’s coming. Pricked, poked and rubbed until the shameful betrayal and physical frenzy. Frozen by the red hot burn of white stuff erupting. Backs turned, eyes wired shut, disconnected from your gut. Speech strangled, sore to swallow, why don’t you wonder what my mouth has seen. Screaming pain going nowhere. Signs of agony everywhere. Shaking hands, spirit shattered, will never find a piece again. Please perhaps ponder? Eyes wired shut, disconnected from your gut. Ghosts hanging in your face. Held up by four, skin cold, cut down too late. Trophies counted six feet under. Disconnected from your gut. Stench of innocence, reeks of guilt, but those around him bathe him well. Slithered split tongues sitting on that slashing seesaw-like swords through butter, and with whispers like back stabbing knives. Feeds and kneads their fallacies to grow in girth, fed by terror sucked from bodies with no hair, say no, no say. Mouth wired shut. Smoking tempers drinking frothy ice cold mixers. Open scabs festering under strobes. Treading softly fearing toes, balancing on breakable shells. It’s no choice for those who know. Your gut. Reunion highs and lows. Don’t cry. Go.