DRIP DOWN
tears flow like morphine drip…whispering voices tell me to
forgive…the respirator pumps in sympathetic rhythms…this mind
is trapped beneath the galaxy of altered stars…drip down…move
them for me tonight and I will give up my sight…to find the path
to reconnect your neurons and reassemble your defect…would never
replicate this complicated dissection of madness…drip down…your
voice betrays your body catechism…and i'm deaf and blind to its
imperious light prism…help me find the wick of blame…help me light
this melted candles' flame…drip down…nothing is static…i'm finding
empty doorways that lead me to a new misunderstanding…i'm coming
upon nothing that suits me, so I better change in the dark…drip
down….bring me back to that place…nothing is static.
THE PRISONER'S DILEMMA
help… you mother fucker…let me out…let me out of here…its fucking
me from the inside out…you did this…let me out…I am the seed…which
doesn't bleed…i've got the needle in my arm and i am free
NOTHING IS STATIC
my forlorn maker is resting his quiescent misery upon me…i am
distended and bloated with tragedy yet it fuels my habitual
hunger…you can't fill me up…i only pine for ancillary sustenance…but
I keep getting caught up by this fucking normality…nothing is
static… i can't believe this…i can't reason why…i am dying so
slowly…while you die by design as I drift alone in the dark sea
…everything I've ever dreamed becomes reality…. but I keep getting
caught up by this fucking normality …I run and swallow them as fast
as I can…but I keep getting caught up by this fucking normality….i
can't believe this…i can't reason why…i am dying so slowly…while you
die by design…nothing is static…nothing…nothing
FILAMENT
forget the possibilities inside us…remember the infinite caliginous
fibers…mitosis occurs inside the burnt out flame…blowing out the
forty-eight hour vein…the margin of amnion is leaking from within
...this is the beginning of the end…the walls are dripping with stains
of anger…the floors are hollow and thin like the veil of circumstance
…this is the filament…when your breath flows out of your reactive doubts
…i can't help but retrace the steps that took us there…your look is
perfect as the pools of blood on the concrete stare…that look of grace
in the sight of empty feelings overcome…washed away like the rays of
the midnight sun…do you have to push me to the point of evaded return
…the outcome will be the same no matter how long we delay this burn…when
the streets are laid out naked and full of symbolic fortune…we can
play along and pretend we know the answers to the picture frames…with
skin burnt to dust we are completely reborn and restituted fire…
i regurgitate the questions to the point of disassembled desire…this
is the truth behind the faith of a liar…that look of grace in the sight
of empty feelings overcome… washed away like the rays of the midnight
sun…do you have to push me to the point of evaded return…the outcome
will be the same no matter how long we delay this burn…this is the
filament.
MARE VAPORUM
crystal clear…suffering severe…you're dead and it's fucking me from the
inside out…crystal clear…suffering severe…you mother fucker…crystal
clear…suffering severe
PLAYING THE VICTIM
stop…why do you always have to play the victim…execution retribution
…stop it…turn on, tune in, and drop out…stop
©2007 Peter J. Lisowsky