Friday, May 16, 2003

Slow Dream

Struggling to move, the senses collapse, 
Bruised from the constant stumbling, 
Unable to pick myself back up. 
The walls close in, bouncing me off 
Each other, a pinball butterfly 
Stuck in a morass of parasitic dodder. 
Trying to move, the mind distorts 
What signals this mesh of wire 
Apprehended, shaping me into three, 
Split-ends breached, kidneys throbbing, 
Entered backwards, thoughts twisted 
Into velvet acid crystals, a synthesizer 
Playing angelic ethereal notes, pretty toys 
Bleeding like a virgin, spirit bent, bones torn, 
Eyes recoiling in horror at the 2am graveyard, 
Cybertron geneticists mixing chemicals, 
Stomach dissected, teeth cracked, hair declawed 
Oh what is happening what are they doing to me? 
I can't scream, can't wake, only pray 
In the darkness, for some opening in the dirt 
To wrench my scissored hands free, 
Vaguely remembering how insanely hard 
It was to move as a baby, a little one, 
Desperately grabbing at everything, 
Yet unable to get my hands on anything. 

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