SWALLOW

 

 

Swallow, swallow, swallow

STOP

A gray hue coats the surface of every object

A drought in the mind

Scene after scene after…

Black and white spots

It’s hard to see they’re all the same

From this stranded, tall platform

Hard to feel the tang in

Murky water

 

A shade of nothing

Your brain just fits in a small, dark box

Which sits listlessly in your skull

Some kind of magnetic seal encloses

Any cluster of creativity

You realize the necessity of spontaneous jerks

Of vivid changes with the ability to bring forth

Demons, or angels, or

Even vampires which you are forced to watch creep

In hostility to their prey

 

The subtle poison holds more value

Than a day spent in the bottom of a dull, white sack

Staring at the cold, shining barbed wire which encircles

The only opening, the great escape

An end to the consumption of what could be

What appears to be

Of what is possibly

A compact, bow-tied, façade

Decorated innocently

To conceal a pack of lies