Wednesday, March 9, 2011

It Seemed So Real At The Time (Hallucination Number One)

Ripe is the nectarine flesh
Plucked fresh from the insides
Of one time prophets since anesthetized

Alone in the playgrounds of the mind
Meandering the configurations of space and time
The way you fit and how you cope
A shell corporation for the forlorn soul

Sanctuary and sanctions passed
Notices of inspiration losing
Their creative pull
I gasp to think of such existence

Failure of a multi-level marketing plan
Has led you and your ghostly pals
To the front entrance of a facility
That we shall leave unnamed,
Your hand is ginger to the handle of the door
The commingling voices demand you cease
Sweat boiling breaching pores
Your tongue swelters from the heat
You cannot think you cannot speak
You turn around and look for help
Yet your cavalcade has gone away/soon ground you will be, from vine to root

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