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
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