Stop the Presses

At last this is one more revelation

Into the abyss of the unknown

Bring me close to caste me away

Cleanse the wounds with salt and vinegar

Just to teach me obedience

Solvents and submission

The inevitable disillusion of the ascribed suicide

An undying obsession of the ideal dream

Close enough to smells its passing fragrance

As I slowly stole away salutations

While I mix drinks with laments

Tongues caged in boxes

Writhing in argument

Silenced in absolution

Fail to Speak

And fail to be heard

And  the calm coma felt like a riot

Published in:  on October 19, 2009 at 1:41 am Leave a Comment