04 January 2006

The bastards had it coming

last revision: 18/01/06

this hall of mirrors reflects only lies like ozone
the soul shrinks smaller but the eyes get bigger.
You don't wait in turn
at the hypagonic feed tube
but claw
and bite
to suckle the new dreams recycled from old
want turned into need
sometimes I can taste it
like msg, the back of my throat
gag reflex kicks like a mule
other time
I don't notice
till it's already inside me
stuff desperate fingers down past the tongue and vomit till empty and cold
it gets under my nails
some time
like grit throwing down roots under the skin scrub raw
trying to get it out but now my fingers
are bloody and useless can't even
press these buttons;
but I can hurl this brick.

I still watch the mirrors sometimes
but I can't do it for long
watch the cracks get painted over and over
just sink like a stone into this setee slowly
erode in this hypnotic stream untill
I'm only dust
pull cobwebs from my eyes.

I lost the horizon;
last time I looked was too long
now all I have are these walls to bang my head against;
the wallpaper fell off long before me.

It used to be there, like a promise
a warm glow
that would make me laugh and cry and fear and wonder
but never
but now,
Now I just see.

©Adam Cheshire 04/01/06