Sanction
dropped before the fifth,
wholesome
beasts silk ties and
violent
fists, gently adjust the storm
of
constriction, subtly strangulating
about
the neck
and
a few shark fins later, along
came
a paisley parrot with a welsh
design,
speaking slurred and lewd
vocabularies
Then
to the painting that caught your eye,
Literally,
some batty estrogen depraved one-time
Beauty
queens, plucked it with a watermelon scoop,
And
tossed it about as each took turns to stir their
Soup…I
think it was lentil, but I can’t quite tell, for
My
nose was plugged damn tight, probably a result
Of
all the smog I breathe in day and night
But
it seems the reflections were all but dirtied splotches
Dried
to spider-webbed glass, and so they through my
Orb
back to me, and along with a half-filled bottle of visine, they said go ahead,
put it back…and somehow,
That’s
exactly what I did
In
continuing this stroll, the things I saw, kind of
Wish
I forced those hags to keep hold my sight in their arms, cradling it till the
break of dawn, then casting a party, with grog and spoils, where we’d all sit
around and tell stories over soup, sticking around until the Moyle pulls the
snippers from his kit, and said, “lets all play a game…”
And
dominion falls for once and all, damning the air with it’s subtle unsettling
sense of foul…and pilgrimages never will seem the same…
As
from this point forward, I do, I must have to say, a day’s much longer when you
stay awake, and the minutes drag when your in distress this great, but hey,
whatcha know, there’s merit in leaving untold whispers by the broken homes of emancipated
brats raised by themselves to live that way, anyhow, that’s a pearl I took to
heart, minutes after this whole sojourn was impelled to start
Seconds
before the brownstone could open it’s arms and wrap their familiar paws upon me
there, a salve, a beacon of dissection stuttered down the concrete, he would’ve
got to me, he probably should have, but lifting one’s leg at every tree, truly
revises one’s definition of a dogged day,
But
as my door was sealing shut, his voice was spurting through the sky, where
words would mumble, jumble echo high, and I there heard him say, “ all we
really need, is something warm to keep us safe, all we really need is a warm
place to stay the night…” and then I swore I heard him crying…to which I’m
always a sucker for…
So
I opened up the door and offered him my couch, to which he spoke swift and
fast, “thank you, thank you, thank you much…this’ll hurt me more than it’ll
hurt you, this I’m most certain of…”
