grounding the demon
so
memory...
grounding the demon.
my childhood whispers to me,
the suffering never seems to stop.
Wayward Bound Or: a warped piano accompanying an epic f@%king poem. (Cluster one, of five.)
an Opera in D-Minor (Call me little horn!) I wish I was a poet... Looking up at the Spun Sugar (The shade of clouds of the near dark) Whistling some bluegrass tune, as my sweetheart cooks our supper (Some slow cooker chili with jalapenos and banana peppers shore would hit the spot). I wish I was a catfish swimming through the outer dark of space eating the light and swimming in the abyss. While space pirates dance in their shuttle craft with the naked women they have "liberated" as the carrier they attacked is set ablaze from the inside. ...The maidens are never to be seen again... I wish my bones to be picked clean by some prehistoric critter... that I may be devoured... that the loss of my life (through one hell of a struggle) would leave me content despite the meaninglessness of the pain. Because I know in my heart that things worked out. I'm too tired to be optimistic But lived enough to know It's a thin line between b
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