The Sick Blue Day.

THE SICK BLUE DAY

   The flesh in these streets
   Smells three days old
   I have thoughts of sandwiches
   The roses have been picked for this season

   The streets don't cry of what I know
   It is a long high pitch scream
   It deafens me back to a part of time

   I don't know these streets--not anymore

   The fleeting smells of sulphur
   Is locked in my clothes
   And dabs at my nose
   Oxygen is a commodity,
   I don't want any
   Water is a necessity
   And with each taste
   My throat tightens at the thought of life
   I summon the filthy sky for something familiar--anything I know
   But these memories of what I'm looking for
   Are desperate drawings from the past

   The chariot of famine
   The chariot of pestilence
   The chariot of death
   Search for warm flesh
   A beating heart to eat
   And regurgitate again and again

   In my mind a light has extinguished
   I pluck each hair out of my scalp
   And toss it to the layers of flesh

   What am I standing on?
   Tell me. Let me hear the words
   So I can go mad

   This world of fame and fortune
   This world of security
   I've seen trickery before

   Skeleton pieces of art frame the sky
   And multi--colour soot rains from the blackened sky
   Where are the plays I love?
   Where are the movies I ate popcorn in front of?.
   Where is the ballerina that twirled and twirled?
   That world is gone--
   It was a beautiful wrapping

   I see people in the distance falling to flat flesh
   I split bones as I walk; cracking a man in half
   I feel numb; out of my mind
   A part of a catalyst I can't contain
   Soft moans from deep under my feet
   Moan ... Moan ... Moan
   It's like music now

   In the distance it is a multitude of retro--death
   Clothes of all colours and time
   Faces of all shapes
   Twisted; obscured by other mangled body parts
   Buildings that didn't stand the test of time
   Falling bricks and glass cut faces in half

   The roses ... the roses ... where are the roses?

   Where is everyone I know?
   The vanishing memories of love or a familiar kind,
   It is gone
   And the passion of the strong; the foolish,
   The passion of the day
   It is gone
   Back to unrelenting time
   Back to the prototype

   I have thoughts of sandwiches
   And the stench is growing stronger
   Salt and pepper
   Lettuce and tomato
   Just something plain to eat--I know, but what am I to do?

   As I climb, higher and higher
   To the top of this hill,
   I sigh and I wish to die
   I see light coming from over the hill
   A low light at the core
   With burst of sharp arrows
   My sullen expression
   My glazed over eyes
   The hump in my back
   Extends to my throat and back again
   My runny nose, my burning desire
   Are all alive for a second in time--that is not mine
   My crooked legs
   My absurd arms

   I am alive for a second in time--that is not mine
   And the bones I break as I walk
   Are muted
   Taken from time
   Foiled to untruth
   Don't say hooray ... no ... no ... no.
   The sulphur is here
   The sky is lacking for a second in time--that is not mine
   And the light, yes, the light!
   I stare, I breathe some more
   To anticipate what is in store
   It is a low light at the core
   I climb higher and higher
   Higher and higher
   Higher and higher
   Higher and higher and reach the top
   I breathe relief
   With a rub at my eyes

   To focus before this second in time passes me by
   And I see ... I see--
   Mounds, and mounds and mounds
   A thousand times of flesh
   Flesh and flesh and more mounds of flesh
   Broken bones riddle my sky
   Obscure moans come from somewhere

   This world is dead.

   The trembles of my soul is what I have
   All my possessions have been magnified
   Before I die

   The story will be 'I tried'
   I rubbed my eyes a thousand times
   I tried not to cry
   And when I shed a tear I made excuses

   I'll watch the flesh have a brand new shine from the light
   Who will stop me and say, 'this is not the truth?'