A blackness, pure thick and silent
penetrates to the diaphragm
bashing against these stoic rocks of sleeping attention.
I keep staring at the thing
that I would consider an equal
and it laughs at me
not knowing what else to do.
A gila monster looks intently at me
and I see the naked contempt…
it turns into a gas station clerk
and I begin to panic
as I give her my change.
She tells me to have a nice day
in a colorless monotone
and changes remorselessly into a statue.
The scene burns into my eyes
and the smell of rotting bird corpses
and cotton candy taunts me,
a little demon hand
motions come hither.
The balled up passions and pressures
beat upon my back, hysterical bats
all demanding asylum and ransom.
This sand under my feet
has been waiting for centuries
for me to walk upon it
and now that I have, it doesn’t matter.
Visions of coffins and laughing faces
spent cartridges and phlegm
purple lollipops and burnt chicken.
Then I look up and see the screen.
Vertigo and dancing…spent
NOW we can begin.
5 4 3 2 1… a ringing.