24200
T o d a y . .
is one of them days
that is so f u c k e d up
that it almost seems alright
days like this make me think
I need a shrink
or I’m on the brink
of some insane madness
laying on a couch
sipping latte
telling lies
being analysed
by someone
more f u c k e d up than I
I hear myself scream
watch myself bleed
from wounds so old
t r a n s f u s e d . .
with blood so cold
I barely live
b u t ~
in there somewhere
there’s comfort
I’m halfway there ~
between here
and righteous prayer
t o t t e r i n g . .
on the edge of terror
that don’t quite get there
o n l y . .
to find myself hiding
cowering in the shadows
trying not to be found
h o p i n g . .
I’m not pushed
by the voice in my head
I understand quantum reality
zeropoint
vacuum energy
spacetime
non-linear thought
dimensions
supergravity
the colliding branes
of m-theory
gamma bursts
strings and things
particles and waves
and
how the universe
was made
but yet . .
I’m caught
in this perpetual cypher
I can’t see the colours
the fibres that define
the simplicities of simplicity
the guise of war
the lies of more and plenty
the predator being prey
the prey having his day
abuse of the innocent . !
the helplessness of the victim
drunkenness wafts upon the breath
how quickly does one forget
what it was to hide
stereoscopic eyes pierce the dark
and you’re ~ IT . . !
consumed by fear
you dare not breathe
your heart staccatos its rhythm
and in all that
you’re none the wiser
you don’t recognise the lies
of your truth
you lay in wait
the common prey
S e d u c e d . . .
by the madness of the day
I Don’t Like This S h i t . !
© mingoáo
