The Silent Fall (as told in 3-D Technicolor) Mad horse, with your nostrils flaring red crimson and Spittle flecking bared teeth grin in anticipation For the kill You give chase in a blur of gnawing trees and bloodless roots Sand surrounding a pool of brackish water Where I once dug as a child Digging a four foot hole, trying to find china and The violet marmalade court of the esteemed Prestor John My hands bloody, eyes wide in anxious excitement that spread from hot face To throbbing dream of heterosexuality Mother in the door wafting cigarette smoke Pissed off as hell, complaining about her libertarian rosebuds now Trampled on by infantile socialist airs This was my dream the dream of a thousand adventures In color I saw the pixels shift and shift and melt into the shaggy carpet Vacuum to no avail it coalesces and forms into shapes shifting and shifting I stare and scream and cry from fear of the new cinema Oh you bastion of equestrian tyranny come to me now And bite and gnaw and chew this tasteless morsel of fading desire I'll hold and I'll love and then I'll fall Just keep the movie camera on to capture all the fun and excitement Careful not to aim to low so as not to offend the censors Aim instead at exploding head and brain sliding down bare white senate walls Orgies of blood and blade embedded in diseased flesh walking And talking and making the cancer more than abstract concept They make policy The new god I saw him outside a texas stripclub He was smoking a havana cigar and playing dice Come on, he said, two for four and six for eight and in between we reciprocate But I don't trust murdering cowards and I trudged past to see the skin show Oh you, who hide behind the glass and black coats Who watch me with clipboards and facts and figures Always writing and analyzing and studying my form On your meaty couches I see all my generation laid out in still neat rows in a closed chamber of plastic and wire Static and unchanging they smile with dollar bills in their eyes Cough out the demons and massage cold lips blue with missed temptation They sleep is what I'm told but I can't believe It can't be voluntary We wailed and screamed against that monolith of bloody self interest No, we are not part of the machine We can't be But I don't trust trailer cowards and so I trudged past and took my place in row seven Near aisle F right next to a dreaming american pure bred with night blue suit and a golden tiepin He reminds me of my stalinist friend in grade school Who used to push me and drag me through ant beds I smile as I slice his air supply And before I close my eyes to that nothing I notice a girl, very familiar, very fucking familiar, staring at me with a strange eye gleam Of crimson fire and teeth exposed in primitive snarl
Reason for writing:
The dreams of youth will fade to be replaced by the torture of reality. One grows older and finds that the ideals they once had no longer apply.
Birth sign: Cancer
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