| Written: AUG 25, 2003 |
Hands covering my ears trying to block the sound,
Horrid visions pouring into my brain with eyes closed;
The backs of my lids playing movies of more horror,
Those things that scare us still that no one can put on film.
Fingers worming their way in to secure the sonic pathways,
Like maggots festering in the filth born from the mind behind.
A darkening, brackish wave that can’t be made to stop,
Rolling across my mindscape as thorny tumbleweeds.
Ripping and tearing, gouging me without caring.
An audible “Ah” as I blindly reach for the cooling bottle,
The blessed fire water to burn away all images.
Drowning the heated tongue to disturbed to whisper,
Ceasing it’s unending, squirming, unspoken complaints;
Rendering myself screaming silent in torrential visions,
Awaiting the sandman to come thrust me into oblivion.
Locked unseeing on the many faces of the fractured world,
Tears seeping down high cheekbones, finding it in disorder;
Fragmented and jaded, and at a loss for anything,
Useless in it’s drivel, like so much that is television.
