Current mood:

drained

Animatronic Antibiotic
Sleep seduces
she's such a whore
always asks
for more and more

I give in, my sin, my retreat, my solitude, my escape. Always waiting for me. Always baiting me. I'm hooked, strung out. I'm cooked, bought out.

Mental residue on my blemished mind
the fog is thick and heavy
enough to break the levee
its cousin, the Flood, enters the scene
now the parasites are drowning
and their tentacles are browning
like Autumn Leaves
bereaved beavers begin to counter the Flood's damnation
while the light at the tip of the brown tentacle refracts and refrains and refires and relinquishes its right to illuminate.

So here I am, para-sight-less
in the sight of Gods and Devils
clear as day until they send me away
tail between my legs
tongue gotten by the cat
irradiated emaciated
dilapidated confused
bemused
at a ruse
that lacks clues

The party in my synaptic gap died down, no one stuck around to help clean up. Bottles and cans in the desert sand, with messages on parchment inside telling how the music died down and left only the sound of the breeze blowing across the caps, barely whistling away the silence.

Drained by my vampiric shadow, it creeps up from behind and sucks my soul into silhouetted formations on the walls of my white room. No black curtains. The undiscovered self is cryptic and leaves me full of question marks without questions to give them direction. Its late, its late! Soon your nocturnal tendencies must be forcibly reversed and won't that be a super-sedated hellish spell.

These sentences beg for sense. The man behind them clings to every word, knowing full well only so much can get across to anyone. The rest remains mummified, its secrets to be unearthed in the eons to come. As if!